


A Caution to the Birds (Blaine Big Bang)

by xsaturated



Category: Glee
Genre: Blaine Big Bang, Dalton AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 120,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsaturated/pseuds/xsaturated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You didn’t transfer schools for a better education or a change of scenery, Blaine,” his father reminds him, not unkindly. “We sent you to Dalton so you would be safe.” Or the one where Blaine’s junior year at Dalton means a boyfriend who is now his competition, a family who are only ever predictable when it suits them, a transfer student with a penchant for stirring things up, meddling Warblers and the realization that the safe option may not always be the best one. A season three!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Underaged drinking. Sex (including tremendously awkward!sex). Angst. Break ups.  
> Notes: I would like to give a huge thank you to Kris for all of the incredible work she's done in making this monstrosity legible, to Shelby for the constant cheerleading and all of the wonderful feedback when I was stuck in a rut, to Ashley for being my writing buddy when we thought we should probably drop out and especially to Lisa for the gorgeous artwork she has created for this fic, I couldn't have asked for a better and more enthusiastic artist to work with over this process. Also a giant thank you to everyone who has had to deal with my constant whining over this fic for the past few months, I don't know how you coped. Title is taken from the song of the same name by The Frames.

The first time Blaine lays eyes on Sebastian Smythe, he almost doesn't notice him.

At the time he is understandably distracted, surrounded by a flock of baby-faced, wide-eyed freshmen and a few tag-along parents waiting to depart on their tour of the school grounds. His phone has been buzzing intermittently in his pocket all morning, no doubt with updates from Kurt on his first day back at McKinley, and he is itching to dig it out and check it but this is his first time helping out with student orientation as a representative of the Warblers and he really wants to make a good impression.

That had been one of the many pieces of advice Wes had imparted on him when he had tugged him aside at his leaving party over the summer to extol some parting wisdom. _Always make a good first impression._

Blaine is waiting for the last of the stragglers to pick up their information packs and their schedules, trying not to look impatient as he rocks on the heels of his school shoes and brushes a fleck of lint from the sleeve of his blazer (that he seems to have outgrown over the summer, if the way it is pinching around his shoulders is any indication) when he catches sight of the boy loitering at the back of his group.

The boy sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the gaggle of nervous freshmen, standing over a head taller than even the gangliest of the bunch and most of the parents. His handsome face is trained in an expression of boredom as he glances around the entry hall with a kind of bemused disinterest, like he is more amused than awed by the elaborate décor (unlike the whispering group of boys that are scattered around him.)

He most definitely does not look like a freshman.

Blaine blinks rapidly, dragging his eyes away from the boy with the reminder that he has a job to do and turns on his best and brightest smile, aiming for nothing short of effortlessly charming as he calls out, “Welcome to Dalton Academy, my name is Blaine Anderson, I’m a junior here and I'll be your tour guide today.”

\--

“Okay, one final sales pitch and then we can talk about making over Nancy Grace,” Kurt says, leveling a determined stare across the table as he settles in to make his case.

Blaine has been avoiding this conversation all summer.

It’s not like Kurt hasn’t noticed – there is no way he has missed every unsubtle evasion Blaine’s made of the hints that have been dropping since before the summer even began. They have been falling thick and fast since almost the day Kurt transferred _back_. It has become a running gag at this stage, Kurt rolling his eyes whenever Blaine changes the subject, shooting him those looks that crinkle his nose just a little bit, the ones that Blaine takes to mean, _next time you’re giving me a_ real _answer._

Even as the summer burns away behind them, it remains something carefully hidden behind jokes and gentle nudges; conversations that are laced with double-meanings lest they be taken too seriously. And Blaine can’t quite bring himself to treat them as such.

They have had an entire summer just for themselves and, to Blaine’s way of thinking at least, there is no room for such serious decisions during summer break; not when he could be enjoying his free days and nights with his boyfriend. Instead he ducks his head, looks down at his hands, or up through his eyelashes and grins because he’s not sure he knows what he wants these days if the answer isn’t just Kurt.

But when it is quiet and Kurt has gone home, when he lets the constant rattle and hum of happiness that he carries around deep in his bones grow still and he lets himself think, it feels like a lot to take in. He spends half his time biting back smiles about nothing lately, but these thoughts are bigger than even that expansive feeling of warmth in his chest.

It is a huge thing to consider, transferring schools again, and a part of him is still surprised that Kurt even asked. Blaine knows that there is a lot he still has to tell Kurt about what his life was like before Dalton but whenever he thinks that he should, the words don’t seem to want to come. He knows that he is going to have to think about it eventually, that Kurt is going to want an answer, but it is summertime and their time isn’t up yet.

Except, when Kurt’s not talking about college applications and New York and Juilliard (and Blaine really doesn’t have the heart to tell Kurt to actually _google_ Juilliard, not with the way he and Rachel whisper about it whenever they are together) he is talking about how great it will be when Blaine transfers.

Kurt has had it all worked out since even before the summer began. 

The first time he points out that Blaine’s parents’ house technically falls within the very, very outskirts of McKinley’s district, just close enough to make a case for transferring, it is while they are waiting in line for hot pretzels, two days into summer break. He smiles brightly the entire time like he thinks he is being subtle and Blaine has no idea how to respond, words sticking in his throat until they are at the front of the line and he almost sighs in relief as he turns away to place his order.

Blaine finds ways to fend off those discussions after that. 

When they are sneaking kisses in Kurt’s room with his family roaming the house and Kurt asks, “Have you decided yet?” (he likes it better when Kurt phrases it that way) he leans in and steals another kiss. 

When Kurt picks him up for a community theatre production over in Westerville and asks, “Did you ask your parents?” as he is climbing into the car Blaine pretends not to hear and sings along with the radio until Kurt sighs and eventually joins in.

It becomes another game they play, the many ways he can distract Kurt from asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer.

He knows that it probably means something that he can’t even bring himself to really consider it. It should be simple, he loves Kurt and of course he wants to spend more time with him, to spend every day with him, to share a choir room with him again and sing duets that aren’t confined to the car and to just be _near_ him. It’s just a school. (It is a lot to ask.)

But he isn’t certain and that is what stops him.

Dalton makes him happy. The Warblers are his friends. He is the lead soloist. He is safe there.

But the idea of McKinley, in those brief moments when he lets himself think about it, makes him curious. Kurt’s friends from McKinley are interesting, he doesn’t know them all that well but he thinks that he might like to. He even likes the New Directions style of performance - the freedom and reckless abandon of them on the stage is so different to perfect harmonies and strict choreography - the motley array of voices that blend together into one beautiful chorus.

McKinley feels dangerous and unknown. It isn’t safe and it isn’t certain, but it has Kurt and Kurt wants him there.

Kurt, at least, has no reservations about telling him what he wants and Blaine thinks he would probably do anything to keep Kurt happy. To be near Kurt.

Which is what makes it so frustrating that he just can’t decide.

Blaine doesn’t know what is holding him back, why he can’t just sit down with his parents and run through the speech he has been halfheartedly composing in his head for the past few weeks (the one about facing his fears and Dalton tuition and the dorms and is definitely, _definitely_ not about wanting to spend more time with his boyfriend).

But come the start of school year they are sitting in the Lima Bean again, Kurt eyeing his blazer reprovingly and Blaine still hasn’t so much as mentioned transferring schools to his parents, let alone made a decision, and the only words sitting on the tip of his tongue are, _You promised you wouldn’t pressure me._

(A traitorous part of him thinks that the blazer in itself should be decision enough.)

The Dalton school year hasn’t officially started - freshman orientation was something he had volunteered for at the end of last year - and he still has a few days before he has to be moved back into the dorms, not nearly enough time really, and Kurt is not impressed.

His voice is teasing, but there is an edge there that tells Blaine what he really wants to be hearing.

Kurt makes his case one more time with a promise that this is it and for a moment - for a clear moment - Blaine can see what it would be like to go to McKinley. 

Blaine can see himself walking through the halls with Kurt; holding hands and sharing lunches, he would be able to slowly work his way through the rainbow of colors sitting disused inside his closet door. Listening to each of those different and wonderful voices pay homage to whatever ridiculous theme of the week Mr. Schuester had chosen and spending time with Kurt again that is not just on the weekends.

And for the first time it feels real.

Kurt wants his senior year to be magic and Blaine wants that for him too.

He wants to say yes then and there, because he has never been able to say no to Kurt when he is looking at him like that, instead they clasp hands over the table and Blaine knows what he has to do.

It fills his head as he is driving home, thoughts of Mr. Schuester’s insane purple piano recruitment scheme fitting together with the need to make some grand gesture to inform Kurt of his decision when all the pieces fall into place. His fingers slide over the knot of his Dalton tie and it gives him pause for just a moment, makes him wonder if the Warblers will be mad at him for transferring without warning.

He can’t imagine that his friends could truly be mad at him for this, but maybe they would be disappointed; hurt that he didn’t talk to them about his plans. They would get over it though, they’d probably even be auditioning for solos within minutes.

It hardens his resolve, the thought that this could be a good thing for the Warblers too. That it might give them the opportunity to shake things up and make some changes. He can’t seem to stop smiling, giddy excitement jittering through his limbs as he drums his fingers across the steering wheel along with the radio. More than anything he wants to turn his car around, to go back and just tell Kurt. He wants to see his face when he tells him - 

\- But first he needs to talk to his parents.

They will have to move quickly after he tells them. The McKinley school year has already started and if his parents want their deposit back on tuition and boarding fees they will have to let the office at Dalton know straight away but there is a freedom to having finally made his decision after an entire summer of indecision.

He will wait until dinner to bring it up so that his mom and dad are together. He could open with the speech he has had running through his head for weeks now, a combination of wanting to face up to his fears (sure to win over his father) and concern about wanting to save money better spent on college tuition (thoughtful enough to appeal to his mother) and wanting to spend more time with them, to not spend most of the year living in a school dorm, to sweeten the deal.

It is simple, it is perfect and Blaine is absolutely certain that it is going to work.

\--

It doesn’t.

Dinners in their family have never quite worked out the way his mother wants them to since Cooper left for LA. However much Blaine might pretend not to notice, Cooper was always the buffer between them, the interpreter who took it upon himself to ease the two factions of their family through the awkwardness of each other’s company. 

It has been years now but still they don’t quite know how to function without him. Blaine thinks he probably understands his parents about as well as they understand him.

Blaine probably should have remembered that nothing ever quite goes to plan if you are an Anderson. His parents are only ever predictable when it suits them.

The speech starts off well enough, the words have been stuck to the tip of his tongue for weeks now and he knows his parents well enough to be confident that they will at least hear him out before they give their response. For all of their differences, his parents have only ever wanted what is best for him - all he has to do is convince them that McKinley is going to be that.

What is worse is that Blaine can see the exact moment that he starts to lose them, the points he had rehearsed in his head, so sure of their reaction, turning to lead in his mouth. His father’s carefully neutral expression turns solemn when Blaine mentions facing his fears and his mother shakes her head indiscreetly, her eyes wide and unhappy, when he tries to point out they could save money by sending him back to a public school. Both of them smile sadly when he stumbles into his final point, because every single one of them knows it is the biggest lie of all.

Silence follows his speech, weighing the air between them as his father sets his cutlery neatly down on his plate and watches him carefully, his expression strained. Blaine watches them exchange looks and clearly his father finds an answer on his mother’s face that Blaine can’t decipher, because he nods and clears his throat before turning back to face Blaine.

“You didn’t transfer schools for a better education or a change of scenery, Blaine,” his father reminds him, not unkindly. “We sent you to Dalton so you would be safe. We should never have let you stay at that school for so long and – you know how much we regret letting things get so out of hand. We’re not going to make the same mistake again.”

Blaine watches his father pick up his knife and his fork and resume eating and he knows that is it. He imagines words like, _no matter what ideas your boyfriend’s been filling your head with,_ tacked on to the end of that sentence, can almost hear them spoken in that same calm, careful tone of voice. But that isn’t fair. He knows it isn’t fair.

He could protest and try to change their minds. Appeal to his mother and pretend he hasn’t noticed that she is already on her second glass of wine when she usually only has the one. But that wouldn’t be fair either, to put this on her.

Blaine’s life has never exactly been fair, so he isn’t sure why he expected it to start now.

Instead he picks up his own knife and fork and he follows his father’s example, pretending not to notice how the tension melts from his mother’s shoulders and the way his father relaxes back into his seat.

It’s not like he is any stranger to disappointment anyway.

\--

Half his night is spent dreaming up ways to change their minds. He is consumed by what ifs and maybes, considering each one like they could possibly change the hand he has been dealt - the answer that a part of him had always expected.

Maybe if he had brought it up two months ago and kept at it, gnawing at their resolve until they cracked under the pressure. Maybe if he had given more thought to what another fresh start could actually mean to him. It is clear to him now that he was never going to buy that shining opportunity with empty shells made of bravery and extra money in the bank; it has never been about the money for his parents and his courage is what landed him in the emergency room the first time around.

In the safety of the dark Blaine can admit that at least part of the hunger he had felt for that shining glimpse of what life at McKinley could be was less about the love he wants to revel in and more about the quiet, whispering doubts of _not fair_ that still lurk in the back of his head, demanding a do-over.

_You couldn’t face up to your bullies at your old school, so you can do it at mine._

But now the opportunity has slipped through his fingers; that glimpse of possibility fading from his thoughts until he can barely remember the resolve and excitement he had felt that afternoon.

He has to tell Kurt.

Blaine remembers him shrugging that afternoon, maybe teasing (maybe not) as he said -

_I’m not sure our budding young love can survive that -_

\- and there are no more maybes or apologetic shrugs left to buy time with; all those brilliant plans Blaine has been stockpiling in the back of his head have crumbled to dust beneath the weight of the wrong answer.

It would be much simpler if he could hate them for this, if he could uncover something ugly in their reasoning or burrow into his bedcovers to sulk for days in some grand gesture that might convince them of his sincerity, but it wouldn’t do any of them any good and Blaine knows why they made their decision.

And maybe, as Blaine closes his eyes and lets the very last thread of hope slip from his fingers, he thinks he might even be just the tiniest bit relieved.

\--

He sleeps late the next morning, long enough that his eyelids itch and droop heavily when he finally rolls out of bed. The house is silent and still again, as sure a sign as any that his parents are long gone, probably grateful for being saved any awkward attempts at conversation that would have followed last night.

Blaine is grateful for the quiet when he stares down at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the touchpad as he tries to figure out what to say. He tries to imagine what Kurt’s face will look like when he tells him and sighs as he lets his phone drop back into his lap, the message still glaringly blank.

He can’t help but think how disappointed Kurt will be. He had spent the entire summer under the impression that _Blaine_ was the one he had to convince.

With a sigh he rubs a hand down his face, scrubbing furiously at his eyelids before he picks up his phone and determinedly types, _Need to talk to you. Lima Bean this afternoon? xx._

He sends it before he can change his mind and takes a deep, steadying breath.

Within minutes there is a reply, _Can’t today. NYADA mixer with Rachel. Tomorrow?_

Blaine gets the feeling it is going to be a very long day.

\--

Blaine can tell from the moment he walks into the Lima Bean and spots Kurt sitting over in the corner near the window, both of their orders sitting untouched on the table in front of him, that something isn’t quite right. He had spent half an hour picking his outfit today, sifting through the entirety of his wardrobe and soaking in the textures and colours with the strangest feeling of loss as he deliberated over how to break the news to Kurt.

However secure the Dalton uniform makes him feel, he thinks he would have quite liked the freedom of choosing a new outfit every morning. Not that it matters.

He brushes his fingers absently over the bowtie at his throat and smiles when Kurt looks up and sees him. There is definitely something wrong, Kurt’s smile is a little slower arriving than usual, which he suspects isn’t going to make this any easier.

“Hey you,” he declares as he sinks down into the seat opposite Kurt’s, crossing his legs at the ankle and noting Kurt’s amused assessment of his outfit.

Blaine doesn’t mind – he is planning to take full advantage of his last remaining days of short sleeves before he has to wear the blazer again five days a week.

He waits until Kurt’s eyes have returned to his before he asks, “Bad day?”

“Bad week more like,” Kurt replies as he nudges Blaine’s coffee across the table with his knuckles and smiles glumly. “But you had something you wanted to talk about, right?”

And _that_ wasn’t exactly subtle.

“Right,” Blaine agrees, taking a sip from his coffee to stall for time. He had decided it would be best to just get it over with as quickly as possible, but faced with the prospect it is hard to get the words to come to him. “I talked to my parents about transferring to McKinley the other night.”

Kurt’s reaction is immediate, his head snapping up and his eyes widening and Blaine has to cut him off, to stop the excitement before it gathers because he doesn’t think he can bear to see it. “They said no.”

Excitement drains from Kurt’s face so quickly Blaine wonders if it was ever there, something disappointed lingering in his eyes as he trains his face to something painfully neutral and says, “Oh.”

Blaine watches Kurt take a sip of his coffee to avoid speaking and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the sight. Before he knows it there are other words tumbling from his lips, rushed and desperate enough that Kurt lifts his head to look at him again, “I just wanted you to know that I really, _really_ wanted to transfer.”

Kurt’s smile of response is small and disappointed, but he sounds sincere enough when he says, “I know.”

They sit in silence for a while, only looking at each other when they think the other isn’t watching and sipping at their coffees until Blaine says, “So, I guess we’re going to be rivals after all, huh?”

There is a soft snort in response and Kurt looks over at him with the beginnings of a smile as he says, “I guess you should probably get used to the idea of losing then.”

Blaine grins, shifting back in his chair as he laughs back, “We’ll see who’s laughing when you have to face the Warblers at Sectionals.”

Kurt outright smiles at that and Blaine impulsively reaches out to catch his hand, stroking his thumb absently across Kurt’s knuckles as he says, “Weekends and holidays, then?”

The smile he gets is a little sad and he can still see the badly hidden disappointment on Kurt’s face, but he shrugs a little and says, “There’s also these things they call cellphones, you know.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and squeezes Kurt’s hand before he sinks back into his seat, taking another long sip of his coffee before he asks, “So, tell me about this NYADA mixer.”

\--

Blaine doesn’t think he’ll ever really get used to Dalton.

There is something about the first sight of those grand, old buildings as he pulls into the parking lot, the ripple of early morning sunlight across the glass, which never fails to make his breath catch in his throat. It had been an intimidating sight for the almost-fourteen year old he had been, especially on the back of being chased from his previous school, but over time Dalton has become a sanctuary for him.

He knows that if his parents had said yes to him transferring, he would have desperately missed the feeling he gets in his chest whenever he catches sight of those buildings.

The view from the boarders’ parking lot, hidden around behind the dorms, is considerably less stirring.

It takes him three trips to unload his car, the first spent gathering his keys and room assignment from the new office lady who offers him one of those same pitying smiles he had always quietly resented from the old one. When he had first arrived at Dalton there had been plenty of smiles like those to go around. He had started to think he’d finally outgrown them.

His roommate’s belongings are already scattered across the side of the room closest to the door and he nearly trips over the lacrosse stick that is propped up against the wall, but whoever they are, they aren’t around and Blaine is determined not to let who they're _not_ affect his opinion of them, so Blaine dumps his belongings on the empty bed and starts to unpack.

Almost all of his belongings are strewn in piles across his side of the room, waiting to be put away into their rightful places, when the door swings open and Blaine gets his first look at who he assumes will be his roommate for the rest of the year. He hadn’t recognized the name when he was handed his keys, but the face is vaguely familiar.

Blaine thinks they might have been part of the same History group project in his freshman year.

“Hi,” he says, trying desperately not to laugh when the guy nearly trips over the same lacrosse stick Blaine has been avoiding all afternoon and grapples to catch it before it falls.

“Oh, hey - hi,” the guy replies, tossing the stick onto his bed and Blaine watches a little warily as he glances over the mess scattered across Blaine’s side of the room.

“I’m Blaine,” he offers, sliding the shirt he is holding onto a hanger and shoving it into the closet before extending a hand cautiously. “I guess we’re roommates this year.”

“James,” the guy offers, shaking his hand, “You’re the Warbler guy right?”

“One of them,” Blaine agrees with a guarded smile. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

James shrugs, “You don’t sing scales in your sleep or anything do you?”

“Not that I know of,” Blaine replies with a hint of a laugh as he turns back to hanging his clothes. “You don’t snore do you?”

“Terribly,” James replies and Blaine hears him hit the mattress with a thump. “You have my permission to throw things if it makes you feel better.”

He doesn’t bother to hide the laugh this time, relief bleeding through the initial tension as he glances over his shoulder to say, “Thanks. If I ever start singing in my sleep you can feel free to return the favor.”

James returns his smile, running a hand through his hair before gesturing vaguely towards the piles of stuff on Blaine’s bed. “You want a hand with that?”

And maybe this isn’t the way Blaine had hoped his year might be starting, but he thinks that maybe he could make it worth remembering, nonetheless.

\--

The uniform he wears is brand new, not that anyone would notice.

Blaine thinks he is probably already done with growing upwards, has had enough time to come to terms with it as his peers continue to gain inches on him, but over the course of the summer his shoulders have grown broader, his arms stronger. The new blazer cuts a sharp line across his shoulders where the old had been starting to pinch when he had tried it on, it tapers neatly to the shape of his waist, snug but not uncomfortable.

It fits better than the last had, looks crisper and brighter to his eye as he carefully slides the knot of his tie to rest snugly at the base of his throat and flips the collar of his shirt back into place. For (nearly) two years this uniform has felt like a second skin to him. It has bought him friendship and acceptance and a sense of belonging when he’d had none of those things. Something about wearing it again eases the unrest he has felt since his parents had denied his request to transfer to McKinley.

He smoothes his palms over the lapels, traces a thumb absently over the embroidered Dalton insignia and takes a slow breath before he smiles, wide and effortless, at his reflection.

It is just another year and then one more after that. In the grand scheme of things, two years is practically nothing.

They have absolutely nothing to worry about.

\--

Blaine is running late.

He probably knows the grounds of Dalton Academy better than the back of his own hand by now. Blaine has had the fastest (and the slowest) paths between the different wings of the buildings all mapped out in his head since his first semester and he had managed to decipher the erratic numbering system of Dalton’s classrooms within two months of his transfer (with only a few nudges in the right direction from Wes).

If anyone were to ask he could tell them the most likely places to find members of the Warblers during breaks, that they should avoid the courtyards if they want to get anywhere quickly, the best times to find a quiet place in the library, what days to avoid the cafeteria and when the gym is most likely to be quiet. On orientation day he had given out almost all of those tips to the incoming freshman.

Unfortunately, none of this knowledge is enough to get him to his first class of the year before the second bell rings.

Instead he curses beneath his breath as his phone buzzes in his pocket again, a reminder of _why_ he is running through the empty halls in search of the door marked 13s, and determinedly ignores the persistent buzzing. His satchel thumps uncomfortably into his side when he skids to an abrupt halt in front of the door he is looking for, but he takes the time to carefully smooth his blazer back into place and take a deep breath before reaching for the door handle.

With some relief he notes that he can’t be _that_ late – the rest of the class are still unpacking their bags. Jeff catches his eye and shoots him a wide, amused grin from the back of the room when the door snaps shut behind him.

“Good of you to finally join us, Mr. Anderson,” comes the bored drawl from the front of the classroom before he has even made it two steps inside.

Blaine winces, determinedly ignores the way he can see Jeff’s shoulders shaking silently with laughter from the corner of his eye and instead turns his best apologetic smile towards the all too familiar disapproving stare of his least favorite teacher. “Sorry I’m late, sir, I was just-“

“- Late. See it doesn’t happen again.”

There is something just a little bit amused in the arch of Mr. Archer’s eyebrows, enough that Blaine feels not quite so put on the spot as he nods and agrees, “Of course,” before hurrying to claim one of the few remaining empty seats near the front of the class, wincing when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket again.

He focuses on unpacking his satchel instead, determinedly ignoring the vibration in his pocket because the last thing he needs is to be called out for texting in class as well. He is dividing his attention between where Mr. Archer has resumed outlining the syllabus for the year and digging his folder out of his satchel when another call of, “Mr. Anderson?” draws his eyes back to the front of the room.

There is complete silence as he glances up, wondering just how badly he is going to suffer for already getting himself on Archer’s bad side, but instead he finds his teacher holding out a thick stack of stapled papers.

Determinedly withholding the sigh he desperately wants to give, Blaine pushes back to his feet and heads back to the front of the room to collect the handouts. As he makes his way around the classroom, passing out the syllabus to his classmates and rolling his eyes at Jeff’s far too enthusiastic thank you, he thinks that this isn’t exactly the triumphant start to his junior year he’d hoped for.

He lets himself drift as he moves down the aisles, imagining what he would be doing if he was at McKinley – if he would have a free period like Kurt seems to have – when a pen clatters to the floor from behind him and he hurriedly traps it beneath his heel before it can skitter away. It is an automatic thing to stoop and pick it up, the buzz of his phone in his pocket covered by what sounds like hastily stifled laughter.

It makes him stand a little quicker than he had intended, frowning as he turns to hand it back to it’s owner and is greeted by a face he doesn’t recognize, the bright spark of green eyes that drift lazily up to meet his and a slow smile that makes heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck.

Blaine isn’t sure he likes the emphasis the boy puts on, “Thank you,” or the way his fingers graze the back of Blaine’s hand as he reaches for his pen.

His own response of, “You’re welcome,” sounds as uncertain as he is suddenly feeling and he regrets the ingrained habit the moment he opens his mouth, if only for the way it makes the other boy’s eyes crinkle a little in the corners like he finds it funny (and the way _that_ makes Blaine’s breath catch uncomfortably in the back of his throat).

Blaine’s frown deepens as he determinedly ignores the flustered heat that is rapidly rising up his neck and drops a syllabus in front of the boy and his partner (Blaine is almost certain he is the one who had laughed, judging by the hand indiscreetly plastered over his mouth) and hastily moves on.

It takes until he is settled in his own seat again, on the opposite side of the classroom, before he can stop feeling like the weight of the boy’s eyes are still fixed on him. Even then there is still the itch of discomfort, heavy at the back of his neck, something warm and flustered spilling across his skin that he can’t seem to shake off as he stares down at the syllabus in front of him.

The rest of the lesson passes with only the rise and fall of Mr. Archer’s voice to fill the air and the occasional buzz of Blaine’s phone against his thigh, neither of which are distraction enough to subdue the urge to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. When the bell rings Blaine isn’t sure he had heard a word that had been said, but when he tucks the syllabus into his folder there are notes dutifully scribbled in the margins.

None of that seems to matter quite so much as getting out of that classroom as quickly as possible.

\--

There are seven text messages waiting for him when he slides his phone out of his pocket, still unable to shake the pervasive jitter of flustered nerves as he walks to his next class, ignoring the way Jeff leans over his shoulder to peer down at the screen while he scrolls through them.

_You and I are brainstorming for my election campaign tonight._

_Want to hear a terrifying origin story about unicorns?_

_Brittany wants to be my campaign manager. Can you imagine?_

_Which of these songs best says ‘I am your one and only choice for Tony?’_

“Who’s Tony?” Jeff asks, wrinkling his nose down at the screen.

“ _West Side Story_ ,” Blaine explains as he skims to the next message with an intent frown, carefully winding around someone who had stopped in the middle of the hall to rummage through his bag.

_I’m the Greatest Star_ –

“Subtle,” Jeff snorts and Blaine drives an elbow out to the side, smiling just a little at the indignant whine he gets when it connects.

- _or Music of the Night?_

“Tony doesn’t sing either of those songs,” is Jeff’s opinion as he glances reproachfully over at Blaine, rubbing at his side. “He has seen _West Side Story_ , right?”

“Of course Kurt’s seen _West Side Story_ ,” Blaine replies immediately, worrying at his lower lip. “He’s auditioning with a song that plays to his strengths. It makes sense.”

There is something thoughtful in the look Jeff sends him before he says, “You’d make a good Tony.”

Blaine resists the urge to roll his eyes as he replies, “Not helpful,” and drums his fingers across the edge of his phone.

“Why doesn’t he just audition with a song from the show?” Jeff asks while Blaine continues to frown indecisively down at the screen.

“He wants to make an impression,” Blaine replies with the smallest of shrugs, something fond drawing a smile to his lips as he tries to envision Kurt singing either one of those songs.

Jeff doesn’t seem entirely convinced by the logic, but he still shrugs and offers, “The first one.”

Blaine frowns as he considers it, tries to imagine how Kurt would punch personality into the verses and finds himself grinning as he nods his agreement and taps back his response, _Jeff votes I’m the Greatest Star_ , before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“So what happened to you this summer?” Jeff asks the moment that his phone is out of sight, like he had just been waiting for the opportunity to change the subject.

“What do you mean?” Blaine asks, trailing a hand distractedly across the stitching of the pocket he had deposited his phone in before glancing back to Jeff to catch his curious stare.

“This summer,” Jeff repeats, his voice so carefully light and unaffected that Blaine instantly knows he is serious. “It was like you fell off the face of the planet or something. None of us even knew if you were coming back this year. Trent had his money on alien abduction but Thad insists you joined a travelling circus troupe.”

“I hung out with you,” Blaine protests. “I definitely hung out with you all.”

Jeff levels him with a look that is so pointedly not accusatory that Blaine throws up his hands instantly in defeat and sighs, “Alright, so I didn’t hang out with you guys as much as I usually do. I was just –“

“- Hanging out with Kurt,” Jeff finishes for him.

“I was going to say _busy_ ,” he corrects with the slightest hitch of his eyebrow, doing his best to suppress just how defensive he is suddenly feeling when he doesn’t even know if Jeff is trying to suggest anything.

“- _Busy_ hanging out with Kurt,” Jeff teases, nudging him in the arm with his elbow to show that he is kidding. “We were starting to wonder if we were going to have to file for visitation rights when he stole you away to McKinley as well.”

Blaine can feel the heat flaring up beneath his skin, something distinctly guilty settling in his stomach as he tries to laugh it off. “Oh come on, I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“He did ask you to transfer though, didn’t he?” Jeff presses on.

“Yeah he did,” Blaine admits, his fingers winding tighter around the strap of his satchel, not quite knowing why he does it as he adds, “But obviously I’m still here, so.”

Jeff smiles at him for that, one of the broad grins that Blaine’s infinitely more used to than the half-smiles he has been getting so far, claps him on the shoulder as the door of their English class comes into sight and says, “Good thing too. Imagine the nightmare if we lost Wes _and_ you in one year, the Warblers would be in complete shambles.”

Blaine is saved the necessity of an answer as they enter the classroom; instead he returns the smile and winds his way through the maze of desks towards the back of the room. He is just settling into a seat when someone brushes past him and he catches a glimpse of long limbs dropping into a seat in the row behind him from the corner of his eye, close enough that he must have followed them into the room.

He cranes his neck around, like he is going to talk to Jeff, and instead finds himself covertly tracing the profile of the boy from his AP Bio class from the corner of his eye. Blaine doesn’t really know what he is doing – it’s not like he’s checking him out – but he is curious, he had _felt_ the boy’s eyes on him during his last class. There is a scattering of beauty spots that trail across the boy’s skin, dotted across his cheeks and down the length of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

The boy’s head starts to turn and Blaine automatically jerks back towards the front of the room, determinedly ignoring the insistent crawl of warmth up the back of his neck as he realizes he had just been staring for no apparent reason and busies himself with dragging his folder out of his satchel.

It is much easier to ignore the heat prickling at the back of his neck, the part of him that tells him to turn around and see if he is being watched, when Trent arrives, loudly bemoaning the misfortune of having first period gym class on a Monday with Nick in his wake, pulling faces at the back of his head. Both of them drop into seats in front of Blaine and Jeff and proceed to fake astonishment at Blaine’s presence.

Jeff shoots him a look that so blatantly says, _I told you so_ , that Blaine feels even guiltier for not trying harder to balance his time over the holidays.

Being back amongst his friends is the first reminder he has had of why he didn’t want to transfer in the first place, why he had blown off Kurt’s questions for so long. It had been almost too easy to forget, when faced with the sheer force of Kurt’s enthusiasm, but whenever he is around the Warblers he is reminded of how they were the first people to ever make him feel like he truly belonged somewhere.

There is a part of him that honestly can’t bear to imagine what it would feel like if that were to ever change.

His phone buzzes against his thigh and he drags it out, frowning down at the response of, _I wasn’t asking for Jeff’s opinion_ , that leaves him feeling as distinctly uncomfortable as Jeff’s pointed questions earlier had.

The phone is shoved back into his pocket without a reply but when he glances up Nick is watching him, his curiosity evident as he asks, “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Blaine replies, flipping open his folder and slipping back into a smile like it could cast off the uncertainty he is feeling.

Nick shrugs it off and it’s almost like it works.

-

He makes it right through until lunch without any further hitches in his day. The new boy doesn’t show up in his math class and Blaine texts responses to Kurt’s updates about McKinley while he is on his way to classes, taking care to avoid the question he really wants to ask ( _what did you mean by_ -)

The Warblers all converge on the same table at lunch, crowding around to catch up with each other and confirm times for the first official meeting of the year. Lunch is spent debating the merits of a recruitment number and carefully avoiding the subject of replacing Wes’ place on the council. In truth they hadn’t lost _that_ many graduating seniors and the audition sheets are never lacking for names but Blaine is thankful for the distraction.

It is easier to think about performances than it is to remember that Wes, who had been his first real friend at Dalton and such an integral part of their group, isn’t going to be there this year. Easy enough that Blaine lets the conversation wash over him, smiles a little as Thad and David try to take the reigns on keeping the other Warblers in line and lets his attention wander.

Kurt had told him all about the New Directions attempting to recruit new members with a Go Go’s number in the school cafeteria over coffee last week. He’d had tiny little splatters of what Blaine thinks was spaghetti sauce dotting the skin beneath his jaw that had been missed in the hasty clean-up, kind of like the beauty spots that trail the length of the new boy’s throat.

The memory of Kurt bemoaning the state of his dry cleaning bill and the complete lack of auditions the stunt had gotten them makes him wonder what would happen if the Warblers ever tried to take over the cafeteria for a performance. Somehow, he doubts it would end in a food fight.

Blaine smiles a little, realizing his eyes have been wandering when he catches sight of his roommate across the hall, seated amidst faces he vaguely recognizes as being on the lacrosse team. His eyes move on, searching the room even though he knows that the people he is looking for aren’t here (Wes is in Chicago, settling into his freshman year of college, and Kurt is in Lima, probably working on his audition for the play) but they stop dead at the glimpse of someone looking back.

The new boy is seated a few tables away, amidst a group of people that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in talking to, his eyes unflinchingly fixed on Blaine. His eyebrows inch upwards, the corners of his lips twitching and he seems entirely unphased, like he didn’t just get caught staring.

Blaine’s attempted smile of response is weak, tempered by embarrassment, his eyes darting swiftly away at a timely nudge to his shoulder as Nick laughs, “Are you even in there, space cadet?”

“I was just thinking the Warblers haven’t done a performance in the cafeteria before,” he replies when he realizes that Nick is not the only one watching him. “Do you think we’d start a food fight?”

“They wouldn’t _dare_ despoil the blazer,” Thad pipes in immediately.

“Why would anyone throw food at us?” Trent asks, ignoring Thad’s outburst to eye Blaine curiously, “We can’t have gotten _that_ out of practice over the summer.”

Across the table Jeff snorts loudly and tries to stifle his laughter as David intervenes with a strained, “I suspect Warbler Blaine may have been making a joke.”

“Spaghetti stains are no laughing matter,” Thad grumbles down at his plate, stabbing a fork viciously into his salad and casting a pointed look in Blaine’s direction.

Blaine smiles apologetically in Thad’s direction in the hopes it will soothe whatever offense he has taken, and lets his attention drift as David redirects the conversation again. The seat the new boy was sitting in is empty when he glances back, the remnants of his lunch deserted, and Blaine tells himself that he absolutely isn’t disappointed about that at all.

He suspects that the less time he spends thinking about the new kid, may be for the better.

\--

Kurt’s phone call that night is dominated by debate over his audition song for the play and his decision to run for class president. Blaine is making his way through the worksheet his History teacher had given out that afternoon (earning herself the maligned title of the first teacher of the year to assign homework), listening to Kurt list the pros and cons of his choices and occasionally adding input when it sounds like it’s required.

“It feels risky you know? Nobody sings a Barbra song with Rachel Berry around,” Kurt sniffs, sounding part put-out by the fact and part fond, before he sighs loudly and Blaine hears a soft thump, like he has thrown himself back onto his bed. “What would _you_ sing, if you were auditioning for Tony?”

Blaine taps the end of his pencil against his desk, sinking back into his chair as all thoughts of dates and names disappear from his thoughts and he only has to think for a moment, staring up at the off-white ceiling before he decides, “‘Maria.’ Or ‘Something’s Coming.’ No, definitely ‘Something’s Coming.’”

There is silence on the other end for a moment before Kurt laughs and says, “You’ve given this some thought.”

He drops his pencil on top of his worksheet and shifts on the bed, curling his fingers around his ankle as he says, “I always liked _West Side Story_.”

Kurt sighs, the sound echoing in the receiver and Blaine knows what’s coming before he even says it, “If you were at McKinley you could have _been_ in _West Side Story_.”

Blaine doesn’t speak, his fingers curling tighter around his ankle as he stares down at his bedspread, waiting as Kurt sighs again before he hears the sounds of movement. He imagines Kurt sitting up at the edge of his bed, shaking his head, before the strained, “So, ‘Something’s Coming’?”

It’s Kurt’s version of _sorry_.

“It’s so hopeful – all about possibility and new beginnings,” Blaine says, shifting to let his head thunk back against the wall of the dorm. “It’s always been my favorite Tony song from the show.”

“Of course it is,” Kurt replies, his voice only a little teasing and Blaine can imagine him smiling. “I feel like I need a song that will show them exactly who I am though.”

Blaine frowns, reaching for his pencil again and tapping it against his bedspread before he declares, “You should go with ‘I’m the Greatest Star.’”

“Really?”

Blaine suspects that Kurt just wants to hear the confirmation.

“ _Really._ ”

He can practically feel Kurt’s excitement radiating through the phone as he reaches for his worksheet again, listening as he details the costume he has been planning and something about scaffolding that he is pretty sure he must have misheard. Blaine is almost finished the worksheet by the time Kurt has wound down. 

The line goes quiet for a moment, Blaine frowning as he scribbles out the answer to the last question, before Kurt says, “So, anything new and exciting happening at Dalton?”

It sounds strangely forced, but Blaine is grateful that Kurt is even willing to talk about it when it is still something of a sore spot that he is here.

For a brief moment he thinks of telling Kurt about that morning, but he doesn’t want Kurt to think he had been the reason Blaine had been running late (even though he kind of was) and he remembers that strange text he had gotten in response to him mentioning Jeff. He could tell Kurt about the new boy, maybe, but it’s not like he really has anything to tell on that front. Instead he leans back against the wall and laughs as he says, “You know Dalton. Same as ever.”

Kurt makes a vague noise of agreement, before announcing, “I may have agreed to letting Brittany manage my campaign for student president. I’m going over to her house tomorrow to go over campaign ideas – want me to text you updates?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

\--

\--

It is kind of surprising just how easy it is to step back into the natural rhythm of how Dalton works.

There are classes and Warbler meetings and friends to catch up with. The new additions to his schedule tying seamlessly into his old trusted routines. Nightly calls with Kurt now coincide with his usual homework time and they text between classes or when he gets a free moment.

It isn’t necessarily the way he had envisioned his relationship with Kurt going this year, or even the junior year that he had wanted, but it is what they have, so Blaine is determined to make the best of it.

There is, however, one small, inconsequential little hitch in his usual routine that he hadn’t exactly accounted for.

\--

“You’re Blaine Anderson, right?”

Blaine’s head jerks up in surprise, distracted from the task of tying his shoelaces to find the new kid standing just opposite him, already changed into his gym gear and leaning back against the locker bay as he watches Blaine with a strange, small smile. 

They have been trading smiles for a few days now and Blaine has caught the new kid looking at him a few times, but Blaine hasn’t really figured out what to make of him yet. 

“Hi,” Blaine replies a little breathlessly, at a complete loss for what else to say and feeling more than a little surprised when the boy takes a step forward to extend his hand with the smallest quirk of his lips.

Blaine reaches out to take it, his knee digging into his chest as he leans in to catch the boy’s hand. The boy’s long fingers curl around his palm, tips grazing across the back of his hand and squeezing just a little as he introduces himself. “Sebastian Smythe. We’re in a lot of the same classes.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees immediately and then wants to cringe at how dumb that must have sounded because of course they are. He resolves to do better (and not entirely just to satisfy that niggling curiosity that has begun to surface every time he catches the boy’s eye in one of his classes) and smiles politely up at him as he asks, “Did you just move here this year, or?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian says, his smile widening as his eyes meet Blaine’s for just a moment before they drop pointedly downwards and Blaine follows them, belatedly realizing that he is still holding on to Sebastian’s hand.

Heat floods his cheeks as he retracts his hand and curls it around his ankle instead, resting his chin onto his knee and dropping his eyes as he resumes tying his shoelaces and asks, “So where are you from, originally?”

“Ohio,” Sebastian replies deadpan, still watching him with that far too amused look in his eyes, though he doesn’t move back to leaning against the lockers like he had been and Blaine can see the toes of his sneakers just at the edge of his vision. He tugs sharply at his laces and drops his foot back to the floor before dragging the other up to repeat the process. “I was living in Paris for the last few years though.”

“Paris?” Blaine asks, his eyes drifting up before he can stop himself and he hopes he didn’t sound quite as eager as he thinks he must have, judging by the expression on Sebastian’s face.

“My mother lives there,” Sebastian says, catching his eye again as he shrugs a little.

“Wow,” Blaine murmurs before he can stop himself and is forced to duck his chin to try and cover it as he resumes pretending to focus on tying his shoelaces.

He doesn’t understand why he can’t seem to just talk to Sebastian like he is a normal person or even why Sebastian is hanging around, apparently waiting for him, when they haven’t even spoken before now. “That must have been cool.”

For his part, Sebastian seems to find it funny. He looks like he is on the verge of laughing by the time Blaine looks up again, letting his feet drop back to the floor before he pushes himself up off the bench. 

Blaine patently ignores the broad grin and Sebastian’s lack of an answer as he fixes a smile on his own face, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt to get it to settle properly before turning to head out of the locker rooms. He has gotten all of two steps toward the door before Sebastian calls out, “Hey, Blaine.”

He turns his head, forehead furrowing in confusion as Sebastian smiles back at him, tilting his head just slightly and letting his eyes drift downwards before he adds, “Nice shorts.”

Warmth rushes up back into his cheeks and Blaine turns stiffly around to walk out into the gym, his breath catching uncomfortably in his throat as he decides that he is definitely not in the least bit interested in getting to know Sebastian any better.

\--

Except that, for all his resolutions, Sebastian proves to be kind of hard to avoid.

\--

He knows that it is kind of ridiculous, but Blaine has always had an almost pathological desire to make people like him. It isn’t that he needs the approval or validation of strangers to get through his day (no matter what certain people might say), but he likes to be liked, and he doesn’t see how that is necessarily a bad thing.

Which is what makes his Biology class (or rather, his Biology teacher) kind of a problem.

Mr. Archer’s longstanding grudge against the Warblers has achieved an almost legendary status over the past few years, if you were to believe the Dalton rumor mill. He is the one member of the faculty who has repeatedly objected to their status as a student-run club, has been known to protest their performances on school grounds loudly and publicly and holds a residual grudge against any and all Warblers who enter his classroom – not that he would ever admit to it.

And over the course of the past week, he seems to have decided to turn the full force of that grudge on Blaine.

Blaine knows it is silly to think that he can change Archer’s mind and it isn’t like that dislike has manifested as anything more than having to pass out worksheets or calling on him more often in class, but it still makes Blaine uneasy to _know_ that one of his teachers actively dislikes him.

It is what finds him settling into his seat right before the first bell rings, trying not to smile too broadly down at the table as he unpacks his books into neat stacks. Blaine might not be able to make Archer like him, but he refuses to make it easy for him to hate him either.

He is flipping through his folder when the loud scrape of a chair across the floor draws his attention, his neck craning to watch as Sebastian Smythe drops down into the seat next to him. Blaine stares bewilderedly at the sight, blinking slowly and wondering why, with the veritable sea of empty seats around them, he chose that one. They haven’t even really talked since that weird encounter in the gym, though Sebastian has taken to smirking at him whenever their eyes meet. 

Sebastian drops his satchel with a thump on the table and it jolts Blaine out of his thoughts.

Blaine runs his tongue across his lower lip, shifting a little in his seat to ease the proximity between them (if only by an inch) and smoothes his fingers across the open page of his textbook as he offers a cautious, "Uh, hi?"

Sebastian’s head turns toward him, that slow, familiar smile crawling wide across his lips as his eyes dip towards Blaine, lingering just a little too long to be innocent before they flicker away, back to his books and he asks, "Where's your flock?"

It takes a moment for the response to sink in, something flustered crawling in beneath Blaine’s skin as his nose wrinkles in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Your little Warbler friends," there is an unsubtle twitch at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth as he speaks, every book dropping onto the growing pile in front of him thumping loudly in counterpoint to the inexplicably fast drum of Blaine’s heart. "I think this is the first time I've seen you without at least one of them trailing around after you."

"They aren't my _flock_ ," Blaine replies indignantly, turning in his seat to face Sebastian and almost jerking his knee away when it skims the other boy’s thigh.

The change in angle only serves to better highlight the skeptical raise of Sebastian’s eyebrows and the dismissive shrug, sharply undercut by the amusement in his voice when he says, "That's not what I heard."

Blaine firmly stomps down the desire to ask exactly what Sebastian _had_ heard. He knows as well as anyone how much Dalton boys like their gossip, harmless or not.

The indignant reply of, “They’re my friends,” sounds petulant even to his ears.

It is made worse by the telltale tremor of laughter in Sebastian’s shoulders that he finds he can still see even when he is turning determinedly back to the front of the room, but Blaine refuses to rise to the bait. Instead he hooks his feet onto the support bar of his stool, well out of the collision range of Sebastian’s long, long legs and bites down on his lower lip. 

Whatever it is that Sebastian wants from him, Blaine is determined that he isn’t going to get it.

"Here they come," Sebastian murmurs as he angles in toward Blaine, leaning across the distance between their seats and lowering his voice to ensure his commentary is solely for Blaine’s benefit.

It makes Blaine’s spine stiffen, his eyes shifting from where he can just glimpse Sebastian lazily inclined towards him, to the doorway where Jeff is wandering into the classroom. Jeff’s eyes scan the room before he catches sight of Blaine, his eyes shifting pointedly towards Sebastian before he raises his eyebrows. There is a question there, followed by a smile that says he isn’t going to be getting out of answering it, as Jeff moves past them to claim his seat.

Blaine cranes his neck around to frown when Sebastian laughs, low and quiet and his long legs stretch out beneath the table, inching into Blaine’s space.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaine finally mutters when he can no longer stand the pointed look fixed on the side of his face.

“It’s sweet,” Sebastian continues, condescension dripping from the smirk on his lips as he flips open his folder, shifting just enough to angle himself towards Blaine as he speaks. “People call them your fanclub.”

Blaine forces his eyes back to the front of the room, schooling his face the best he can as he bites back any response that he might have had, half-formed protests about being a team and them being his friends floundering. He is certain that Sebastian has no idea just how uncomfortable the idea that the Warblers treat him differently makes him, how it reminds him of Kurt’s casual barbs from last year and just how much they had made him wonder if any of the other Warblers felt the same way.

_Sometimes I don’t feel like we’re the Warblers. I feel like we’re Blaine and the Pips._

He can feel heat crawling up the back of his neck beneath the weight of Sebastian's eyes, fixed to his profile as if he is just waiting out Blaine’s response long after he picks up his pen and tries to focus on what Archer is saying. Blaine is determined to ignore him, biting harder at his lip as Archer talks until he tastes blood.

It _should_ be easier to ignore Sebastian when he is busy taking notes.

Instead there is a soft, sudden tap against the leg of his chair, completely out of sync with the steady rhythm of Sebastian's pen against his page that Blaine can’t seem to block out. It thrums through the metal, close to where his own feet are hooked onto the bar and Blaine pauses for a moment, running his tongue over the tender indents in his lip, and frowns down at his notes like he is just taking a break from writing.

Sebastian makes a soft noise that sticks in Blaine’s ears, like he finds Blaine’s determination funny, and it happens again, the tap of his shoe picking up something like a rhythm between the beats of his pen until Blaine jerks his head around to acknowledge him with a low whisper of, "What are you doing?"

“Getting your attention,” Sebastian replies, pausing in his incessant tapping to smile broadly at Blaine. “Did I offend you, Anderson?”

Blaine frowns down at his paper as he says, “No.”

“Good.” The reply gives him pause and when he glances over Sebastian is watching him intently, something in his eyes and the faint twitch of his lips catching Blaine’s attention and refusing to release it. “Because I heard that you’re the guy to ask for advice on how to fit in here at Dalton.”

He stares for a moment, searching Sebastian’s face for some sign that he is joking before something hot and ashamed washes over him when it becomes clear that Sebastian’s perfectly serious.

The reminder that Sebastian is a new student and that he is probably still trying to figure out who is who and how he is going to fit in is a sobering one. Blaine remembers how grateful he had been to Wes when he had taken him in under his wing during those first awkward weeks at Dalton, how intimidating that first view of those buildings had been when his arm was still stuck in a sling and he was besieged by rumors. He remembers how hard it had been for Kurt to adjust to Dalton last year.

Realizing that he has been projecting his own frustration at being back at Dalton on Sebastian doesn’t sit well with him at all.

Feeling suitably ashamed of himself Blaine summons up a smile, noting the way that Sebastian’s carefully neutral expression shifts just a little in response, and says, “Well I _have_ been informed that I make an excellent tour guide, if you wanted.”

Sebastian’s response is a devastating flash of brilliant white teeth, stirring something that Blaine quickly determines as relief inside of him, before he says, “I bet you do.”

It draws an awkward laugh half up his throat before Blaine turns away, fixing his eyes firmly back on his books as he tries to stifle the blush that is rising in his cheeks (Sebastian probably didn’t even mean anything by it) and chokes out, “Great.”

Sebastian sounds far too amused, lips quirking ever so slightly when Blaine’s eyes dart over towards him, as he echoes, “ _Great._ I look forward to any insights you can give me, Blaine.”

“As do I, Mr. Anderson,” Archer’s voice cuts in, loud and sudden and Blaine jerks his head around to find their teacher staring directly at him. “If you’re quite finished flirting, maybe you’d like to pass out these worksheets.”

Face burning anew, Blaine determinedly doesn’t look in Sebastian’s direction as he trudges to the front of the class to pick up the worksheets and begin his circuit of the room.

Apparently he’ll have to start his battle to win Archer over again another day.

\--

It is surprisingly fun, showing Sebastian around the school grounds, even if it is starting to seem like Sebastian is more interested in asking questions about Blaine than the school itself. 

He is sure to get bombarded with questions from his fellow Warblers about skipping their usual lunchtime plans to show the new kid around, but he is starting to find that the more time spent with Sebastian, the less abrasive his personality seems to be. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t done the exact same thing for Kurt when he first arrived.

They spend half the lunch hour wandering around campus with Blaine pointing out things off the top of his head - the best parking spots and the shortcut between the arts wing and the science block out the back - and Sebastian telling his own stories in turn, about the trip he had taken over the summer to Milan and how he can’t seem to find decent coffee anywhere here. Blaine listens intently, a little surprised at just how hungry he is for the prospect of something so much bigger than Dalton and Ohio and small towns. 

By the time Blaine realizes he has stopped mostly talking about the school and has spent the last ten minutes trading questions, they have ended up over by the student dorms.

“So, you’re a boarder huh?”

Blaine glances over from the corner of his eye, smiling a little hesitantly as he replies, “Yeah, I mean, it’s kind of a long way to drive every day and it wasn’t really practical when I first transferred, so.”

Sebastian grins and nudges his elbow into Blaine’s arm as he asks, “No wild dorm parties I should know about?”

“Now those are top secret,” Blaine informs him with a smile, glancing over at the dorms as he says, “I actually needed to pick up my folder for History, if you don’t mind?”

“Inviting me back to your dorm already, Anderson?” Sebastian asks, eyebrows raised.

Blaine rolls his eyes, laughing uncomfortably as he says, “You can wait here if you like.”

“And miss the rest of the tour?” Sebastian replies, lips twisted in that same far too amused smile, “No way, this is just starting to get good.”

It’s how he ends up with Sebastian following him down the corridor, peering curiously at the rows of closed doors with interest. Blaine is surprised to find that the door to his dorm is already open and when he cautiously sticks his head in he finds what he assumes are James’s legs sticking out from beneath his bed.

Sebastian leans in the doorway, peering down at the spectacle with interest as Blaine edges inside and asks, “Hey - are you alright?”

There is a thump and a groan before the legs start to shuffle backwards and Blaine hurriedly gets out of the way as James emerges, rubbing at the back of his head, and turns to look at Blaine in surprise. “I was looking for my Economics textbook,” he says when Blaine just stares at him, before his eyes turn towards Sebastian standing in the doorway and his eyebrows twitch upwards. “I can get out of your way if you wanted some-”

“ _No,_ ” Blaine cuts him off immediately, certain he doesn’t want to know what James is about to say or hear it spoken out loud with Sebastian standing right there. “I’m just picking up my History folder.”

James shrugs, still rubbing at the back of his head before he glances meaningfully in Sebastian’s direction again and Blaine rolls his eyes before saying, “Sebastian, this is my roommate James. James this is Sebastian - he’s new here, I was just showing him around.”

“I think you’re in my math class,” James says brightly. “Seriously though, it’s cool if you wanted some _alone time_ , you know. Just because most of us are cock-blocked by the lack of-”

“James, shut up,” Blaine cuts in, a little desperately.

“Say no more,” he continues, grabbing his backpack off his bed and smiling broadly as he backs towards the doorway, slipping past Sebastian with a broad smile. “I was never here. Nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

Blaine squeezes his eyes shut, takes a deep breath and hopes that Sebastian is going to miraculously forget that the last few minutes ever happened and that he won’t completely freak out over James’s complete misjudgement of the situation.

“Your roommate is very invested in your sex life,” Sebastian says, sounding entirely too amused and far closer than he had been, there is the soft thump of something hitting a mattress and Blaine cracks an eye open, glancing over to find Sebastian has dropped down onto his bed and is grimacing a little. “Though I can’t imagine he’s ever actually _tried_ to have sex on one of these.”

“I am so sorry about that,” Blaine finally manages to get out, busying himself with rummaging through the papers on the little table he had managed to cram into his side of the room in search of his History folder. “My roommate apparently doesn’t have any boundaries. Or filter.”

“It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” Sebastian replies, leaning back onto his hands and smirking over at Blaine who pointedly keeps his eyes fixed away. 

By the time he finally spots his folder and snags it out from beneath the pile of History notes it is with an almost palpable sense of relief, he stuffs it into his satchel as quickly as possible before daring to glance in Sebastian’s direction.

“We should get going,” Blaine says firmly when he finds that Sebastian is just watching him, the corner of his lip quirked up in a half-smile.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Sebastian replies easily as he pushes himself back to his feet.

And if it sounds like Sebastian is talking about something else entirely as he brushes past Blaine in the doorway, close enough that Blaine gets a noseful of his cologne, he very pointedly chooses to ignore it.

\--

He doesn't know what Sebastian thinks he is doing.

It's like every time Blaine sees him now he is talking to one of the other Warblers and he has even seen him talking to James, on occasion, since that awkward encounter in their dorm. Blaine distinctly remembers the look on Sebastian’s face the day he had called the Warblers Blaine’s fan club. It makes him wonder what has changed that they are now, apparently, worthy of Sebastian’s time. 

There is something unsettling about watching Sebastian stroll into their English class looking for all the world like he is actually listening to what Trent is saying, but even more unsettling is Trent announcing, "I was just telling Sebastian he should come along to our auditions next week."

Blaine smiles in response, because he knows that there is no logical reason for him to _not_ want Sebastian to join the Warblers, and says, "That sounds like a great idea."

Sebastian gives him one of those looks that make him feel like he is utterly transparent and says, "Trent was saying you sometimes put on performances for the rest of the school."

"Yeah," Nick says brightly, "They tend to shut the school down."

"Oh," Sebastian is practically laughing at them, his eyebrows raised as he glances over to Nick before looking back at Blaine. "I can’t wait to see one then."

"Great," Blaine murmurs to himself as Sebastian drops into the seat behind him.

"Great," Sebastian echoes, low enough that Blaine's sure he is the only one who was supposed to hear it.

He doesn’t dare turn around to see if Sebastian is half as amused as he sounds.

\--

Blaine could probably talk to Kurt about this.

He _should_ probably talk to Kurt about this.

The problem is trying to get a word in edgewise.

Kurt has so much going on, a list that seems to grow longer by the day as he looks for things to stack his NYADA applications with, but the topics that dominate their nightly phone calls are always the same. Play auditions, glee club and Kurt’s campaign for student class president.

It’s not even that Blaine _minds_ talking about any one of those things, it is actually kind of nice to listen to Kurt talk with such enthusiasm while he slogs through his daily allotment of homework. The problem is that whenever Blaine so much as mentions Dalton or the Warblers, there is a distinct chill that Blaine can feel all the way through the phone line.

Blaine is starting to think that maybe Kurt isn’t quite as okay with him not transferring as he has been led to believe.

“It was a complete _nightmare_ ,” Kurt bemoans as Blaine triumphantly scrawls his final answer down on his Biology worksheet and sets it aside. “I don’t think anyone has ever grapevined for that long in the history of showchoir. The power has completely gone to Mike’s head.”

“It sounds like you guys are really taking things seriously this year,” Blaine replies as he unclicks his pen and starts sorting his homework back into piles, ready to be put back into his satchel.

There is a beat of silence and Blaine wonders, for a minute, if he said something wrong before Kurt says, “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this.”

Blaine frowns, slipping his Biology homework into his textbook so it won’t get wrinkled and asks, “What do you mean?”

Kurt makes an odd noise and Blaine can hear him shifting around before he says, “It’s just something Finn said the other day. I mean, we are rivals again now.”

“Okay,” Blaine replies after a moment.

He must sound uncertain because Kurt hurries to add, “It’s not that they think you would ever steal our ideas or anything.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine agrees, silencing the part of him that thinks that is _exactly_ how it sounds. “We’ll just talk about something else.”

There is silence for a moment, like Kurt doesn’t entirely believe him, before he speaks again, practically brimming with enthusiasm as he asks, “Okay, well, did I tell you about the campaign posters I’ve been making yet?”

\--

While his first few weeks back at Dalton may not have been easy, Blaine is kind of surprised at just how smoothly he and Kurt have adjusted to the constraints that distance places on their relationship. 

They text and they call a lot and Blaine spends a lot of time wishing that the dorms had WiFi because he misses seeing him, misses kissing him and holding his hand and looking at him while they drink their coffee and just talk, but he thinks it will get easier when he is finally able to make it home for weekends again.

Of course that means that it is all a little too good to last.

\--

He has been back at school for what is approaching three weeks, but over the course of the past week, the initial enthusiasm of Kurt's text updates has been starting to wane, something distracted and upset starting to enter Kurt’s voice during their phone calls at night. 

It is when the texts he does get start to grow steadily gloomier over the course of the week that Blaine begins to worry.

_Brittany's running against me for student class president._

_Mercedes left the glee club._

_Wish me luck for my audition._

And after that, there is nothing. There are no enthusiastic replies when Blaine texts him to ask how the audition went, he misses first one phone call and then another without explanation, and doesn’t pick up when Blaine tries to call him instead. Blaine is starting to really worry - is considering calling him at home or texting Rachel to ask what is going on when he gets a curt text that reads, _Can’t talk - there’s a lot going on_ , that may as well have said, _I don’t want to talk about it._

Blaine finds himself wondering if he has done something wrong. He runs through their last phone call wondering if he had said anything that could have upset him, if they are in a fight and he just doesn't know it. By the end of the second day he has gotten himself worked up enough with worrying that, rather than risk biting James's head off when he gets back from lacrosse tryouts, he heads down to the gym. 

There are only a few people still milling around at this time of day and nobody pays him much attention where he sits in the locker room, carefully taping up his fingers before pulling his gloves into place. The coach knows him well enough that nobody will bother him.

Someone is lifting weights in the corner but the room is otherwise deserted and Blaine ignores them in favor of making a beeline for the corner where the punching bag is set up. The first swing is little more than a tap, just to center himself, and he shifts his feet accordingly, finding a better balance before he picks up a rhythm and lets go. 

Things get easier, after that. Blaine likes the uncomplicated burn of his arms and the slow ache that builds in his fists. He likes the way the motions come naturally to him now; how they feel practiced and _earned_ by every hour he has spent laying his frustrations bare into the unchanging surface before him. Every hit breaks another piece off of the tightly wound ball of frustration that has taken up residence in his chest.

Blaine can feel the way it unravels like twine, falling away to nothing until the pressure in his chest gives way to the rapid expansion of his lungs and the jackhammer of his heart, replacing the numbing, hopeless frustration that has been sitting there, leaden, for the past two days. He doesn't know how long he has been at it before his muscles start to relax and the tense, angry set of his shoulders softens into something more fluid and easy. 

His breathing is loud in his ears when foreign fingers curl around the sides of the punching bag, holding it in place and Blaine drops his fists automatically. His arms hang heavy at his sides, hands feeling like lead, his muscles wobbly and kitten-weak with the loss of momentum and he wonders how long he has been at it to feel like that.

Without the smack of his gloves against the bag there is only the labored sound of his breathing, loud in the still air, and an amused voice interjecting, "Easy there, Killer."

Sebastian looks different out of the uniform, broader or taller somehow without the stiff shape of the blazer. Though that could just be because of the proximity.

Blaine takes a step back as he wipes the sting of sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm, tugging at the straps of his glove with his teeth to get it undone and eyeing Sebastian warily as he asks, “What are you still doing here?”

The frustration that he had been feeling earlier has all but burnt out, leaving only the heavy feeling of exhaustion that follows whenever he spends too long in the gym. He wishes he had thought to bring a towel with him as he reflexively reaches a hand to his hair and grimaces at the slimy feel of gel displaced by sweat, inexplicably self-conscious as Sebastian edges back into his line of sight.

Sebastian is wearing a generic version of the Dalton gym uniform, but is carrying what Blaine recognizes from the growing pile of junk that occasionally creeps out from beneath James’s bed as lacrosse pads beneath one arm.

“Lacrosse tryouts, huh?” Blaine answers himself once he has tugged both hands free from his gloves and lets them drop to his feet, flexing his hands with a wince.

“So you’re not just a pretty face then,” Sebastian says and Blaine laughs in spite of himself, eyeing the way Sebastian’s hair is drooping limply across his forehead with more fascination than he can really justify.

He looks away before Sebastian can call him out for staring or anything equally as embarrassing and instead glances down at his hands, trying to rub some of the stiffness from his fingers before he sets to work unraveling the tape and asks, “So, did you make the team?”

“Of course, no surprises there,” Sebastian replies, with an amused tip of his head and Blaine can practically feel the blatant drag of Sebastian’s eyes up his body before he says, “I wouldn’t have picked you for the boxing type.”

Blaine scoffs a little at that, picking the last of the scraps of tape from his fingers before balling it all up into one hand and rolling his shoulders back to try and loosen them up. “I find it relaxing.”

“I can think of a few better ways to help you relax,” Sebastian replies with a slow quirk of his lips, pushing his hair back off his face.

Awkward laughter bubbles up his throat and he is ducking his chin, halfway to the conditioned response of rolling his eyes or brushing it off that he has learned all too well over the years, when he notices how intently Sebastian is watching him. 

Oh.

The laugh dies, choked off at the back of his throat and heat crawls beneath his skin at the realization that Sebastian isn’t joking.

He clears his throat to cover the silence, lowering his eyes and feeling unaccountably self-conscious as he says, “Boxing works just fine for me.”

There is a stifled huff of laughter as Blaine stoops to gather up his gloves, tucking his arms around his chest as he stands again and feeling strangely defensive when he meets Sebastian’s eyes.

“Clearly,” Sebastian replies with a pointed dip of his eyes. “For the record, this whole bashful schoolboy thing you’ve got going works just fine for you too.”

Blaine looks away, biting down on his lower lip and schooling his expression to hide the twinge of a smile that is threatening to spread across his face, because he knows that this is not okay, that he has to put a stop to it as soon as possible, but the realization that there are boys out there who might find him attractive is still a bit of a novelty.

“Look Sebastian,” he starts, forcing his chin up to look Sebastian in the eyes as he says, “I have a boyfriend.”

“So the rumor mill tells me,” Sebastian replies as he swipes limp strands of hair from his eyes. “Which one is it? The blond that keeps giving me the eye in Bio or the one with the dimples who looks like he wants to cry every time you speak to him?”

Heat floods his cheeks as he shakes his head, not entirely sure that he wants to know who Sebastian means by the latter, and his mood dims with the reminder as he says, “Kurt doesn’t go to Dalton anymore. He lives in Lima.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows inch upward, the barest hint of a smirk still present on his lips as he says, “Lima huh? No wonder you’re in here working out all of that _frustration_ on inanimate objects.”

There is a lazy roll of Sebastian’s shoulders as he takes a step forward and then another and Blaine’s feet may as well be stuck to the floor for all that he can seem to move, his eyes following Sebastian’s slow advance towards and then past him. Sebastian lets out a low noise just as he passes by and Blaine catches his eyes dipping low and across as he turns his head. 

It is suddenly made obvious what Sebastian was looking at as he laughs out, “Such a waste.”

The back of his neck is still burning as he listens to Sebastian retreat, calling a bored, “Later Blaine,” over his shoulder before the door to the weights room swings shut behind him.

It is too quiet in Sebastian’s wake and Blaine glances around the deserted gym in sudden jarring awareness, wondering what the time is and how long he has been there. The usual calm that follows a session with the punching bag has deserted him, leaving only aching knuckles and buzzing skin and the traitorous pounding of his heart for his efforts.

The reminder of Kurt sears through him, guilt mingling with the annoyance and the worry that has followed two days of almost complete radio silence and that makes it worse because he didn’t even _do_ anything.

He squashes the balled up tape inside in his fist and takes a deep steadying breath.

Somehow, he gets the impression that this is only just starting.

\--

He waits until it is clear that Kurt isn’t going to be calling before he makes his decision. If Kurt is angry at him, he needs to know why, and there is one person who he is certain will know exactly what is going on.

It is harder than he expected it to be to compose a message that is vague enough that Rachel won’t figure out that Kurt isn’t talking to him if she doesn’t already know but will hopefully garner him some insight into what is happening. _How are things at McKinley?_

It takes all of a minute before his phone is buzzing back at him, but the indignant response only holds more questions.

_Tell Kurt that if he wants information on my campaign he can ask me himself._

Blaine stares down at it for a long time, suddenly exhausted by the revelation that it has been a grand total of three weeks since he last saw Kurt and he apparently has absolutely no idea what is going on in his life.

\--

Kurt finally calls the next night, his voice determinedly cheerful, like he hasn’t just been ignoring Blaine for the past two days, and it is clear that something isn’t quite right when he says, “I got Tony.”

“Of course you did,” Blaine replies immediately, because strange behavior or not, Blaine has never doubted that Kurt would get the role he wanted.

“If only everyone was so easily convinced,” Kurt replies wryly, his voice a little strained, but it doesn’t long outlive the more genuine enthusiasm he starts to muster as he outlines his plans for Tony’s costume.

“That yellow blazer should have been retired in the eighties,” Kurt declares firmly.

“I like the blazer,” Blaine replies lightly, “It adds authenticity.”

“Of course _you_ like the blazer,” Kurt retorts, his voice a little sharper than he had probably intended, because he immediately amends, “You’ll have to help me pick out alternatives this weekend.”

A smile breaks across Blaine’s face at the reminder that he is finally going to be allowed to leave for the weekend again as he laughs, “I can’t wait. I’ve been going completely stir crazy stuck in these dorms again, I miss you.”

Kurt makes a sympathetic noise and adds, “I miss you too. It’s like everyone at McKinley has lost their minds. Did I tell you about Quinn?”

And it is so easy to just talk to Kurt again, to let their conversation drift wherever it wants to and the past few days have been a jarring enough reminder of how much he misses talking to him face to face, seeing him whenever he wants to, that he doesn’t want to ruin it by asking what had happened. It’s nice enough that Blaine hesitates before tentatively bringing Rachel up, that strange text at the forefront of his thoughts, and doesn’t push for answers when Kurt blows the subject off.

“Anything exciting happen at Dalton?” Kurt asks and the question makes him tense a little, dragging a hand across his bedspread and staring up at the ceiling as he considers his answer. “Added any new, shiny Katy Perry showstoppers to your repertoire?”

Blaine rolls his eyes and laughs a little, reminded for a moment of _maybe we shouldn’t talk about this_ as he says, “I’ll have you know that’s highly classified information. The council would have me up for treason if I said anything.”

Kurt laughs and the sound soothes away some of the worry he has been feeling whenever Dalton comes up in their conversations now. He knows that there are things he could tell Kurt, that he could bring up Archer’s ridiculous vendetta or the miserable event that has been every Warbler meeting this year. He _should_ tell Kurt about what happened in the gym the other day. Instead when the line falls quiet again he says, “You know Dalton, same as always.”

He will tell Kurt everything this weekend, when they are face to face, so he can be certain of his reaction. It’s not like there is anything to tell anyway.

By the time they hang up, it is almost like nothing had even happened.

James wanders in right as he is hanging up, shaking his dripping mass of hair in Blaine’s direction on his way past before he collapses backwards onto his mattress and moans, “Stop smiling like that. It makes me feel like you were having phone sex before I came in and dude, boundaries.”

Blaine throws a pillow at him.

\--

Friday can’t come quickly enough for him.

There is a restless energy buzzing beneath his skin that is there from the moment he wakes up that he can’t seem to shake. Sebastian’s eyes follow the drum of his fingers across his textbook throughout Biology and Nick forcibly confiscates the pen he has been tapping against his page in Math with a pointed scowl.

Gym is the only class of the day where he doesn’t feel like he is ready to burst out of his skin, the rhythmic slap of his sneakers against the track is steadying amidst the nerves that nothing can quite seem to settle. He knows that it is ridiculous, that there is no reason he should be nervous about getting to see Kurt again, but the exercise at least seems to help.

It is warm enough that he can feel his gym shirt starting to stick to his back within three laps, his breath forming in soft panting gasps as he circles the track. He is so focused that it takes him a few moments to recognize when someone falls into step with him, the slap of their feet just slightly out of sync with his own.

Blaine blinks back into focus, his eyes shifting curiously to the side to catch sight of Sebastian’s profile before he quickly looks back to the track.

Since that conversation in the weights room Blaine has started noticing things that he hadn’t let himself give any thought to before. Sebastian hasn’t said anything since, but Blaine gets the impression from the way he smirks when he meets Blaine’s eyes sometimes that it hasn’t been forgotten.

He thinks he should probably be putting a bit of distance between them, that he should be ensuring Sebastian knows that he isn’t interested in anything like that, but Blaine has found that his resolve always seems to falter when he is actually in Sebastian’s presence. The problem is that he likes talking to Sebastian, that he is interesting and different from the other boys that Blaine knows.

The problem is that for some inexplicable reason Blaine really wants to be friends with him.

“Are those even regulation?” Sebastian asks, voice steady but the pointed dip of his eyes when Blaine glances over is answer enough to his confusion.

“Shut up,” he scoffs back, rolling his eyes as one hand smoothes self-consciously over the material of his shorts.

“Practically indecent, Anderson,” Sebastian replies with a shrug. “Here was I wondering why half the class was loitering back there.”

Blaine is suddenly absurdly grateful for the warm flush of exercise, if only for how well it conceals the heat of the blush that is crawling up his neck. The last thing Sebastian needs is encouragement.

“They are not,” he replies, leveling a pointed look in Sebastian’s direction that is met with only an amused shrug of his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t blame them if they were though,” Sebastian continues easily, “It was a fantastic view.”

Hurriedly swallowing the inexplicable laugh that bubbles up his throat, Blaine sends what he hopes is a thoroughly disapproving stare in Sebastian’s direction instead. From the self-satisfied expression on Sebastian’s face, it isn’t nearly as successful as he had hoped.

“They were the only ones left in my size when I transferred,” Blaine informs him, following it up with a quelling look when Sebastian grins and looks like he is going to say something else.

For a while they fall into silence, the synchronized pound of their shoes against the track and panting breaths the only punctuation to their progress. But it doesn’t take long for Sebastian to break the lull in conversation. “What’s with you today?”

Glancing over, Blaine studies Sebastian for a second, forehead furrowing as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been wired all day,” Sebastian replies with a laugh and Blaine is just a little preoccupied by the color that is starting to rise beneath Sebastian’s skin. He looks warm and flushed, a few strands of hair just starting to droop across his forehead and his eyes all the brighter for the exertion. “I thought Archer was going to staple your hands to the table this morning.”

He shrugs a little, focusing on the track ahead as he says, “I’m not _wired_ – I’m just, excited for the weekend.”

There is the slightest quirk of Sebastian’s lips as he pauses for just a moment, just long enough that Blaine wonders if he imagined it, before he says, “You sure about that? You look like you need to relax to me.”

Blaine narrows his eyes, “I’m fine.”

“My offer still stands,” Sebastian replies with a shrug. “It’s not like anybody needs to know. You don’t even have to tell your little Lima boyfriend if you don’t want to.”

“I never want to mess my thing up with him,” Blaine says between breaths, a hint of annoyance working in beneath his skin when he notes the way Sebastian just shrugs it off. “I really care about him.”

“Wait a minute – that’s what this is, isn’t it?” Sebastian asks, laughing to himself. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Anderson. Weekend booty call?”

Blaine is pretty sure that nothing could hide the blush this time, heat crawling beneath his skin as he shakes his head and insists, “It isn’t like that.”

The laughter dies off, Sebastian glancing over and Blaine is at least satisfied that he is starting to sound out of breath as well as he murmurs, “Pity.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Blaine glances away at the sound of their coach yelling to pick up the pace. And it may be kind of childish, but growing up with Cooper had certainly taught him his fair share of tricks, so he lets Sebastian draw just a step ahead before aiming a light tap at the back of Sebastian’s knee.

Blaine picks up his pace as soon as Sebastian’s knee folds beneath him, the sound of Sebastian cursing with surprise as he falls behind bringing a broad smile to his face.

A call of, “You’re breaking my heart here, Anderson,” follows after him and he bites down on the smile that determinedly tries to stretch wider across his face.

Instead he glances over his shoulder and waves as he calls back a cheerful, “Bye, Sebastian.”

The smile doesn’t fade until long after he has left the locker room.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

\-- 

Blaine has been planning this weekend out to the letter with Kurt for the past three days.

As soon as the last bell rings, Blaine will head straight to his car where his bag is already packed and waiting in the backseat. From there he is driving straight home, stopping off at his house only to change out of his uniform and drop off his things, before he keeps on driving to meet Kurt at the mall in time for coffee or ice cream before Kurt has to leave for Friday night dinner with his family.

Saturday and Sunday are to be dedicated entirely to catching up on what they have missed; they'll have coffee at the Lima Bean and hang out at Kurt’s house, sneaking kisses whenever they can, until Burt eventually tells him it is time to leave. They will go to the mall and undoubtedly buy clothes that Blaine won't get to wear and in between they will catch up on all the little details of their lives that have slipped through the cracks in the past few weeks. He will find a way to wheedle whatever is going on between Kurt and Rachel out of Kurt and he'll tell Kurt about the complete non-thing with Sebastian, because that is what they do and it will be just like it was during the summer.

Or at least, it would be, if he could get his car to start.

Blaine takes a deep, calming breath, counts backwards from three, then opens his eyes and turns the ignition hopefully.

The engine gives a sad whine as it valiantly tries to turn over before it dies entirely.

He fumbles with the door and steps out, eyeing the hood of the car dubiously. 

The full extent of his knowledge about the inner-workings of cars can be attributed to that one summer he and his father had rebuilt the Chevvy together and a few things Kurt had mentioned while he was trying to walk Blaine through a basic service. His distraction on that front had at least been justified – Kurt had been wearing Armani jeans that did fantastic things for his legs at the time.

With a sigh he walks towards the hood of his car and thumps a hand against it in frustration before digging into his pockets in search of his phone.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you have to actually open up the hood first.”

Blaine jerks around, a hand flailing upwards right to where he can feel the drum of his wildly thumping heart, to find Sebastian eyeing him thoughtfully from a few feet away, a gym bag thrown over his shoulder and lacrosse stick tucked under his arm.

“You surprised me,” Blaine breathes out once his heartbeat has settled again, sinking back against the body of his car.

“Car trouble?” Sebastian asks.

Blaine rolls his eyes, lips quirking as he asks, “That obvious, huh? What are you doing over this side of the school?”

There is something a little amused in Sebastian’s eyes as he tips his head towards the gym bag hanging over his shoulder, “I’ve got lacrosse practice. I had to pick up my gear from my car. Did you call anyone yet?”

“I was just about to,” Blaine replies as he resumes his quest for his phone, producing it with a rueful smile. “Looks like I’m stuck here for the weekend after all.”

Sebastian’s head tilts, something that is still far too amused on his face as he says, “If you don’t mind sticking around for a while, you can catch a ride with me after practice finishes.”

His surprise must register on his face, because Sebastian’s smile curves a little wider.

“That’s really nice of you Sebastian but I live all the way out in Ada,” Blaine says, shaking off his surprise and shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “I couldn’t ask you to -”

“My dad’s house is in Kenton,” Sebastian cuts him off with a shrug, “It’s only an extra twenty minutes, but you can feel free to stay here all weekend waiting for your car to be fixed if you want.”

“No, I mean, yes - that would be great,” Blaine replies, still feeling just a little stunned as he stumbles over his response. “Thank you.”

Sebastian shrugs, hitching the strap of his gym bag a little higher as he says, “You can even consider it an apology for earlier if you like.”

Staring at him curiously, Blaine wonders if that _is_ Sebastian’s version of an apology, before he smiles just a little and raises his phone. “Okay, well, I’ll just call for a tow-truck and I’ll meet you at the lacrosse field then.”

There is something just a little bit too pleased about Sebastian's smile as he tilts his head, eyeing Blaine thoughtfully before he takes a step backwards, saying, “I'll be sure to keep an eye out.”

Blaine watches him go, raising a hand in an almost wave as Sebastian turns to cut across the parking lot in the direction of the gym, before he realizes what he is doing and drags his hand back down to his side.

It does not explain why he can't stop smiling as he grapples with his phone, skimming through his contacts for the local mechanic that his father had programmed into his phone when he had first agreed that Blaine would be allowed to keep his car at Dalton.

Ten minutes later he sinks down into the driver’s seat to wait, tapping out a text to Kurt to tell him what is going on.

_Have to take a raincheck on tonight. I got delayed. Are we still on for tomorrow?_

Waiting for a reply feels like an eternity, his fingers tapping across his knees until finally his phone buzzes up at him, the screen lighting up with Kurt’s response of, _Of course we’re on for tomorrow. Stuck in play rehearsals tonight anyway. Text you later._

Blaine is still frowning down at the blank screen when the tow-truck pulls up nearly five minutes later. He shakes off his thoughts as he leans over to tug his satchel and his overnight bag onto his shoulder and plasters a broad smile on his face as he gets out to talk to the mechanic.

It isn't long before he is watching his car getting hitched onto the back of the truck, nerves suddenly prickling beneath his skin as he tucks his phone into his pocket and moves forward to confirm his contact details with the mechanic.

He waits until the tow-truck is out of sight before starting off across the parking lot, cutting down the side of the gym and out behind it to get to the lacrosse fields. Blaine hears them before he sees them, the frequent blast of the whistle rising over the grunts and yelling of the players and as he draws closer he sees that their practice is already well under way.

There is absolutely no reason that he should feel weird about being here, but there is still a strange prickling beneath his skin as he moves towards the stands and drops down only a few tiers up. He busies himself with placing his bags neatly beside his feet, grateful that nobody spares him a second look, before glancing curiously down at the field.

Blaine doesn't know much of anything about lacrosse but he does know that the Dalton team are supposedly very good - and that they have the cabinet full of trophies to prove it. There isn't much crossover between the lacrosse team and the circles that Blaine runs in, but there are a few familiar faces amongst the line-up. Not that it matters.

It’s not like he has any reason to want to know more people on the team.

Practice seems to consist of a lot of running and a lot of yelling from the coach, as far as Blaine can tell, and he feels a little bad for the goalie who seems to spend most of his time getting pelted by the ball. The helmets make it hard for him to distinguish which player is which, especially since their practice uniforms do not appear to be named, but it doesn't make the view any less attractive.

It doesn't take long for him to spot Sebastian. He is only the second person to get past the goalie in almost fifteen minutes of attempted shots and Blaine is not entirely sure that it is him, not until the coach catches him looking over at the stands and calls, “Yeah, yeah, Smythe. Quit showing off for your boyfriend and get back in line.”

Blaine bites down on his lower lip and glances away, but he doesn't miss Sebastian's nod in his direction or how his teammates good-naturedly punch him in the arm as he passes them by. Blaine suddenly feels all too conspicuous, sitting alone in the stands. It hadn't been quite so bad before Sebastian had drawn attention to him, but now that his presence has been acknowledged he feels wildly out of place. He hasn't felt entirely at ease around large groups of jocks since before he was in middle school, back before being different suddenly started to become a punishable offense.

If the guys on the lacrosse team know him, it is as a Warbler or, to some of them, maybe still the gay kid who transferred mid-semester in freshman year with broken bones, the one who the entire faculty had treated with kid-gloves and on occasion still do.

Around the Warblers he sometimes forgets that Dalton is just like any other school really, it simply has stricter rules and a faculty willing to enforce them. The Warblers are popular around the school and Blaine has never felt the least bit threatened inside Dalton, but Blaine knows by now that just because someone can't act on it, it does not mean they aren't thinking it. And if there is anything about this school that Blaine knows all too well, it is how quickly gossip spreads.

He shifts uncomfortably on the bench, glancing towards the end of the line curiously but looking hurriedly away when he notices that Sebastian's head has turned back in his direction. His eyes track back to the front of the line to watch another player attempt a goal, his lips quirking a little as the ball sails successfully into the net.

The rest of the practice passes by without event, Blaine curling his arms around himself and toying with his phone as the afternoon starts to drag on. He is thoroughly engrossed in planning a performance to drum up interest in the auditions next week with David via text when he hears the heavy thump of cleats on the steps and the smell of grass and sweat fills his nose and drags his eyes up from his phone.

Sebastian has his helmet tucked under one arm, his hair a ruffled and sweaty mess across his forehead, as he drops down to sit next to Blaine and says, “Were we boring you, Anderson? All that hard work so you'd have something to look at and you're up here talking about -” he leans into Blaine's space, peering down at the screen of his phone at his latest reply before letting out a bemused laugh as he adds, “- last Friday night?”

“Top secret Warbler business,” Blaine declares with a grin as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

Sebastian looks entirely unconvinced. “For all the talk I've yet to see any evidence that your Warblers actually do anything other than sit around talking about the piping on your blazers.”

The laugh surprises Blaine, slipping out from his lips before he can stop it and there is something a little triumphant on Sebastian's face that makes Blaine rolls his eyes and say, “The Warblers can be a little high maintenance sometimes, but we're good at what we do.”

“Sounding a little cocky there, Anderson,” Sebastian replies, eyebrows raised and looking so entirely delighted by the prospect that Blaine shoves at his shoulder.

“You'll see,” Blaine says with a bright smile, “The Warblers are going to Nationals this year.”

“And are you going to lead them there?” Sebastian asks.

Something squirms uncomfortably in his chest as he replies a little indignantly, “The Warblers don't have a _leader_. Everyone's opinions are given equal value.”

“Well that sounds like a terrible idea,” Sebastian teases, grinning wide when Blaine turns to scowl at him indignantly.

Blaine has found that he really likes the way the corners of Sebastian's eyes crinkle when he smiles like that. It is an unexpected discovery, considering he hadn't realized he had been paying much attention to Sebastian's smiles at all.

“But hey,” Sebastian adds, “I'm sure if anyone can make it work it's Blaine Anderson, right?”

Then Sebastian is suddenly pushing back to his feet, juggling his helmet awkwardly beneath his arm into a better position and looking down at Blaine as he says, “Let me just get changed and grab my things so we can get going.”

Blaine nods in response, listening to the retreating clack of Sebastian's cleats against the wooden steps and biting down on his lower lip as he reaches down to gather up his bags, tugging them into his lap and determinedly not looking at Sebastian's retreating form.

Spending too much time with Sebastian Smythe could definitely be dangerous.

\--

Blaine is kind of surprised by how easy it is to just _talk_ to Sebastian.

Their conversations up until now have been anything but enlightening (beyond Sebastian's apparent fixation with making him blush) and Blaine is starting to realize now just how little he actually knows about him. At Dalton secrets are few and far between and new students have always borne the brunt of that curiosity, but Sebastian has proven himself strangely exempt from that rule.

It is part of the reason that Blaine spends the entire time that he is waiting for Sebastian to emerge from the locker room twisting the strap of his satchel round and round his fingers with an impending sense of dread. The realization that he has agreed to spending almost two hours in a car alone with a boy he does not really know hitting him with a sudden and startling clarity.

The thing is, Blaine knows that he plays things close to his chest most of the time. He takes great pains to ensure he is on good terms with everyone, friendly _to_ everyone, but he doesn't let them in. It is that tendency to keep his friends at a distance, so that even his closest friends amongst the Warblers still largely stay in the territory of close acquaintances rather than best friends, that had made that brief shining glimpse of what his life could be like if he chose McKinley so hard to let go of. 

More and more often lately he has been able to admit to himself that before Kurt, he had never really had a best friend. It is something that he still doesn't quite know how to deal with.

It is why he spends that time bracing himself for the inevitability of the kind of awkward silence that comes from not knowing another person well enough to carry out a conversation for very long.

But somehow, miraculously, it isn't awkward at all. 

There is the initial shy moment of carefully stowing his bags into Sebastian's backseat and shifting delicately on expensive leather seats, wondering just how particular Sebastian is about his car (because it is an intimidatingly _nice_ car), before the stereo had kicked in and Blaine had not been able to keep from laughing at Sebastian's frantic rush to change the station as Taylor Swift blared from the speakers.

By the time they reach the outskirts of Ada and Blaine is directing him through the suburbs, Blaine knows that Sebastian spent the last two years living with his mother in Paris, that his father is a State’s Attorney and he is the one who brought the car, that he was in dance classes when he was younger and, yes, he can sing (though he refuses to demonstrate that skill until he hears Blaine sing first). He knows that Sebastian has an obnoxiously long playlist of trashy Europop songs on his iPod that is hidden behind the title, 'driving songs' and more dubstep remixes of 90s songs than Blaine knew existed.

They are small things, silly things, but Blaine likes that he knows them and that it doesn't feel weird to tell Sebastian his own stories in turn. He tells him vague stories about his own parents and his brother, all about Wes' legacy with the Warblers and at length about the Warblers themselves; he tells him about his ongoing experiment to see how many female empowerment pop songs he can get them to sing before they call him out on it.

It is starting to get dark before Sebastian pulls into his driveway, Blaine can see both cars parked in the driveway which must be a new record, and it is almost disappointing to see his house in front of him.

Blaine is feeling strangely giddy as he unbuckles his seatbelt, watching Sebastian lean forward in his seat to dial the volume down and feeling strangely reluctant to actually get out of the car. He smiles a little awkwardly as he turns around in his seat to gather up his things from the backseat, the muted sound of the stereo serving only to highlight the first real lull in conversation since they left Dalton.

“Thank you again,” Blaine blurts out once he is facing forward again, his bags sitting in his lap and shifting uncomfortably as he turns towards Sebastian. “I really appreciate this. As much as I love Dalton I think I would have actually gone crazy if I'd been stuck there for another weekend.”

Sebastian's lips quirk in one of those strange, not-quite smirks that Blaine still does not really know what to make of as he says, “Well, we couldn't have you going all _The Shining_ on the other boarders now, could we? A face like that was not made for juvenile detention.”

Blaine laughs and looks away, biting his cheek to try and curb the smile before he says, “I should get going.”

The strange not-quite smirk remains on Sebastian's face, his lips twitching as he tilts his head a little before he extends his hand and says, “Give me your phone.”

Eyebrows furrowing a little at the demand, Blaine laughs and reaches into his pocket to pull it out, he takes the time to unlock it before he hands it over with a bemused, “Why do you want my phone?”

It becomes apparent as Sebastian deftly takes it and pulls up his contacts list to add in his details, it takes all of a minute before Sebastian is calling his own phone, waiting for the muffled sound of it ringing from the backseat before he hangs up and hands it back over. His eyes crinkle in the corners a little as he says, “You should text me if you need a ride. Or, you could just text me.”

Blaine can't help but grin in response, sliding his phone back into his pocket and pushing open the door as he says, “I'll get back to you on that.”

“Cold, Anderson,” Sebastian laughs and Blaine can feel him watching as he climbs out of the car.

He bites back the smile that is threatening to spill wide across his face and instead waves as he calls out, “Bye Sebastian,” and pushes the car door shut behind him.

Blaine only makes it to the front steps before he is turning around, smiling when he sees that Sebastian is only just reversing out of the driveway now and he waves again as Sebastian pulls out onto the street.

When he makes it to the front door his mother is waiting for him on the other side, still dressed in her work clothes and frowning a little as she says, “There you are. We were starting to think you weren't coming, who was that?”

“Just a friend,” Blaine replies, adjusting the weight of his bags over his shoulder and still smiling a little stupidly as she ushers him inside, asking where his car is.

Blaine is starting to think that being Sebastian's friend does not have to be a such a bad thing after all (he doesn’t even have to transfer to McKinley to make it happen).

\--

More than anything, Blaine thinks that he has just really missed being able to talk to Kurt in person.

It had been disappointing to call Kurt, once his parents had ceased their uncharacteristically involved attempts at conversation, only to discover that he was going to be stuck in play rehearsals for the entirety of the next day.

He hasn’t seen Kurt for over three weeks, he has listened to more New Directions drama over the phone than he can even begin to remember and now that he has finally been able to make it back home for the weekend, it seems incredibly unfair that Rachel has Kurt in complete lockdown for play rehearsals.

Not that he hadn't entirely expected it.

Rachel's Napoleonic crusade to take over the entire play has been recited in grand detail into his ear over the past few days while he labors over his homework at night. And while Kurt's excitement has been leeching through the tinny speakers of his phone, it has been tainted by something that Blaine has not been able to put a name to. 

Blaine knows that there is something Kurt hasn’t told him yet about the auditions, but his decision to wait for Kurt to tell him has let his imagination run wild.

The two whole days when Kurt had dropped contact directly after his audition had been followed by something stiff and determined populating Kurt's every word about the role since. Like he feels he has something to prove and is entirely unwilling to let Blaine in on what it is.

Blaine doesn’t know what changed during that time and the fact that Kurt seems so unwilling to tell him is a little frustrating if he is being honest, but he is determined to find out.

Once he finds a way to sneak into rehearsals, that is.

After all, he hasn't seen his boyfriend in person for over three weeks and not even Rachel Berry on the warpath is going to keep him out of those rehearsals, which is how he finds himself sneaking in through the audience doors of the McKinley auditorium, as stealthily as he can, on a Saturday morning.

He can hear Rachel even from here, her voice projecting through the empty auditorium as he slinks inside, keeping low as he slips down the rows right at the back before sinking down into his seat. Thankfully none of the house lights are on, but he slides back until he can barely see over the back of the chair in front of him anyway before he pulls out his phone.

He keeps one eye on where he can see Rachel parading in and out of the wings in variations of her costume while the kid in the wheelchair (Artie, he thinks his name is Artie) vetoes each decision, while he taps out a message to Kurt. 

It takes all of a minute for the response to come, a hasty, _Stay right where you are_ , that makes him grin down at his screen and sink back in his seat to wait.

On stage he can hear Rachel loudly making a case for one particular dress (he thinks he can spy taffeta rosettes from even here) while the people busily painting sets watch on in amusement. He doesn't know where Kurt even is, except that it takes almost five minutes of listening to Rachel try to extol the benefits of her choice, before Kurt is slinking down the row towards him and dropping heavily down into the seat beside his.

The sight of the jaunty angle of his hat summons an inexplicable grin to Blaine’s face before he is even at the start of Blaine’s row.

"Hey you," Blaine whispers, eyeing the stage for a moment and the dim surroundings before ducking over to greet him with a kiss. It lands just at the corner of Kurt's lips, displaced as Kurt turns towards him, and the awkwardness of it makes him laugh before he tries again.

Kurt rolls his eyes when Blaine pulls back, smiling as he says, "I appreciate the intrigue of an illicit rendezvous in the dark as much as the next boy, but you could have just used the stage door like everyone else, you know."

Blaine reaches over to dig his fingers into Kurt’s side in retaliation, grinning when he squirms away, and scoffs, "You're the one who has been texting me SOS on the hour, every hour since _8 am,_ Kurt."

There is something amused and a little coy in the way Kurt looks over at him, through his lashes as he says, "So you're here to rescue me then?"

"And risk the wrath of Rachel Berry for stealing her Tony?" Blaine laughs back, shaking his head as he grins, "No way, I'm just here for moral support. Go team."

"Some boyfriend you are," Kurt scoffs back, with a snooty jerk of his chin that makes Blaine smile wider. "What do they even teach you at that fancy private school anyway?"

"Charm, manners, basic survival skills," Blaine replies airily, “That would include not upsetting your boyfriend’s best friend, in case you were wondering.”

Kurt laughs again, but it sounds undeniably strained to Blaine’s ears, especially when combined with the pinched expression on Kurt's face, and he is just wondering if this is the point when he should just ask what is going on when he realizes that the background noise has died almost entirely as they have been talking.

He watches Kurt's eyes roll and his face turn apologetic, something like badly contained annoyance flooding his features, before he sighs, "Sorry."

Blaine blinks in confusion. "What do you -"

"Blaine Warbler if that is you up there I told Kurt to tell you that you can have him after rehearsals finish and not a moment before."

The sound of Rachel's voice so close by makes Blaine jerk in his seat, slithering lower and lower until he can't even see over the seat in front of him. It is a feat made entirely redundant by Kurt's opposing choice to sit high in his seat and scowl like he isn’t the one who is skiving off of whatever duties he is supposed to be carrying out.

"I said to be _discrete_ ," Blaine hisses, eyeing the jaunty angle of Kurt's hat with considerably less fondness now that the slap of Rachel's flats on the steps is drawing ever closer.

"You really thought that Rachel wouldn't notice her male lead was missing?" Kurt replies with an almost-amused shake of his head that quickly turns sour. “You’re lucky we got this long. I’m starting to think she had me microchipped when I wasn’t looking.”

By then Rachel is already standing at the end of their aisle, her hands perched on her hips as she stalks down the row of seats towards them. 

Blaine sighs and pushes himself back up to sit in his seat properly, smiling wryly as he says, "Hi Rachel."

"You're interrupting our rehearsal schedule," she huffs as she edges past them to sink into the seat on Blaine's other side. "You’re lucky you are as cute and about as treacherous as a six-week-old puppy, Blaine Warbler, because I may have told Puckerman he could deal with any spies however he saw fit."

Blaine turns on her in bewilderment, glancing over towards Kurt in the hopes of a cue that will tell him how he should interpret that and instead he is greeted with the sight of Kurt leveling a decidedly icy look in her direction over the top of his head. "Why would the Warblers want to spy on our play rehearsals, Rachel?"

It sounds suspiciously like they might have had this discussion before.

"I'm not saying that Blaine would knowingly spy on us," Rachel insists, grabbing hold of his arm as if to assure him that is not what she means (though it kind of sounds like that is exactly what she is saying). "I'm just saying that, as we are now rivals again there should be a certain amount of transparency in our dealings with each other. No sneaking around in the back of the auditorium. You know the rules Kurt, this is our last chance at a National championship and we agreed that these rehearsals are _closed._ ”

"Blaine isn't Jesse, Rachel,” Kurt replies with an exaggerated roll of his eyes in Blaine’s direction as he reaches out to rest his palm over the back of Blaine’s hand almost possessively. “And he isn’t going to learn anything from hearing us sing anything from _West Side Story_ that he doesn’t already know from watching us perform last year. Right, Blaine?”

“Right,” Blaine echoes uneasily, because he is pretty sure he isn’t imagining the tension that is suddenly far too apparent in the air between them.

Somehow he doesn’t think it is entirely because of his apparently unwelcome presence either.

Kurt’s words from his final sales pitch at the start of the year spring to mind, an unforgiving reminder that, however much he might like the collective members of the New Directions, they are still his competition. _He_ may have been trying to forget that, tucking it away into a place he had labeled as unimportant and to be dealt with later, but it is becoming all too clear that maybe Kurt’s teammates have not.

And now that he is thinking about it, he is left wondering if any of the Warblers are having similar misgivings.

Rachel is eyeing him shrewdly, her fingers still clutching his arm, five bright spots of pressure in counterpoint to Kurt's firm grip on his other hand, before she flashes a bright smile directly at him and declares, “Fine. Since you’re here, we may as well make use of you.”

With that she is using her grip to haul him out of his seat while Kurt watches with a narrow-eyed expression, his hand slipping away from Blaine's as she tugs him off down the row, sliding her arm through his as she confides in a loud stage whisper that Kurt can undoubtedly hear, “Kurt’s been refusing to rehearse any of the scenes that Artie hasn’t signed off as being 100% set in stone, which is just ridiculous – we haven’t even rehearsed ‘One Hand, One Heart’ yet. _You_ can be my stand-in Tony.”

He can hear Kurt yell, “It doesn’t make any sense to rehearse a part that Artie might change or cut, Rachel,” at their backs but he thinks the better of twisting around to try and see the expression on Kurt's face when his foot skids on the edge of a step.

“He will cut ‘One Hand, One Heart’ over my dead body, Kurt,” she yells without even looking back, her fingers digging a little harder into Blaine’s arm before she adds in a much lower voice, “Your boyfriend is even more of a diva than I am.”

It is about the time that he realizes that maybe there is still more going on at McKinley than Kurt has been telling him.

–

As it turns out, his presence is not tolerated for long within their rehearsals.

Rachel has him run through “One Hand, One Heart” three times with her, her eyes shining brighter each time they reach the end until she grabs his hand tight in hers and squeezes, looking positively miserable.

He almost asks what is happening between her and Kurt, but it isn't long before Kurt's stalking onto the stage himself and announcing that if they are going to be rehearsing Tony and Maria scenes, they may as well rehearse them with the _actual_ Tony and Maria.

Blaine bows out with a promise from Kurt to call when he is done and finds himself puttering around his empty house for the afternoon, trying not to wallow in his disappointment as he does the laundry he had brought home with him and hums along to the tune of “Something's Coming” beneath his breath.

When Kurt calls that night it is already late, long after Blaine's curfew has passed and he has given up any hope of being able to spend time with him. Kurt explains that his dad had taken the entire family out for dinner to discuss him potentially entering the running against Sue Sylvester for senator. Blaine listens intently, thoughts of all the hard conversations he has been saving up pushed aside in favor of settling in to listen to Kurt enthusiastically describe how he is planning to help out with his father's campaign.

It's very late when Kurt finishes detailing his plans, his enthusiasm so contagious that Blaine almost forgets to wonder how Kurt is planning to fit it all in with everything else he already has going on. 

Blaine is yawning and too tired to even think of the conversations he wanted to have and instead he puts it off, agrees to having coffee together in the morning, and thinks that it might not be the perfect weekend he had envisioned, but at least it will be something.

\--

After the seemingly endless string of let downs this weekend, Blaine is determined to make sure that their plans for Sunday, at least, go smoothly.

Blaine is starting to wonder how so much could happen within the space of only a few weeks. He thinks that maybe he had underestimated the difficulties involved in not seeing Kurt every other day and how much could fall through the cracks between even their numerous texts and phone calls. 

He is sure that this weekend will be nothing in the long run, just a speed bump to remind them how much harder they need to work at this, but it had still been a shock to see how quickly things could change between them.

The Lima Bean is quiet when he arrives, fifteen minutes early due to the uncertainty that had kept him awake through the night. He makes certain to give the barista his brightest smile and a generous tip when he orders his own coffee and pays for Kurt's before settling down at their favourite table, off in the corner where it is a little quieter during the busiest hours, to wait.

Spending time at Kurt's play rehearsals had been eye opening in a lot of ways. It had made him realize just how much Kurt hasn't been saying during their phone calls and, witnessing firsthand the extent of his falling out with Rachel and how uncomfortable that has made their rehearsals, it makes him wonder what else he might have missed. 

It's not like he has forgotten that Kurt likes to keep the things that bother him to himself, that he is used to hiding his problems because he doesn’t want to burden the people who care about him, it is just that he had never anticipated that Kurt would actually keep them from _him._

Not that he is exactly innocent of keeping things to himself.

Blaine frowns down at his coffee, watching steam curl out of the tab as he curls his hands around the cup, letting the warmth leech through the paper into his hands before he sighs and takes another long sip. 

Last night he had made a promise to himself that he would clear the air about Dalton. He will tell Kurt about how frustrating Warbler rehearsals have been and how much he misses being able to look over and see Kurt rolling his eyes at the sheer bureaucracy of it all. He'll tell Kurt about how much it bothers him to know that one of his teachers actively dislikes him and, as strange as it may seem, how much he misses Wes. He will tell him about Sebastian, however uncomfortable that conversation might be, and how he can never quite tell what it is that he wants from him.

And then, maybe, he might even have the courage to talk about the weird texts or the strained silence whenever Dalton comes up in their conversations.

There is a soft clearing of throat as the chair opposite him pulls out and his head jerks up at the sound of the legs dragging across the hardwood floors, his lips curling wide into a broad smile as he watches Kurt sink down into it.

"You didn't have to pay for my coffee you know," Kurt says in lieu of a greeting, though his smile tells him the gesture was appreciated.

"I wanted to," Blaine insists. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"You just saw me yesterday," Kurt laughs back, smiling as he sets his cup in front of him and levels an amused look at him. “Though if depriving you of my fabulous company results in free coffee, I might have to do this more often.”

"I saw you for all of an hour before Rachel kicked me out of rehearsals so I wouldn't see her sing ‘Tonight,’" Blaine replies with a sigh. "I guess I just got spoiled over the summer. I've missed you."

Kurt's smile softens a little as he says, "Well I can hardly blame you for missing my scintillating company. I remember how stuffy all those Warbler meetings can get."

Blaine laughs a little and shakes his head as he says, "They're not _that_ bad."

"Oh please,” Kurt laughs as he shakes his head, “I know they're all your biggest fans, but even you have to admit their preoccupation with the colour of the piping on your competition blazers is a little ridiculous."

The laughter dies in his throat and Blaine takes a sip of coffee to wash down the irrational stab of hurt that appears at that. He knows Kurt doesn't actually mean it like that, but sometimes he wishes that people wouldn't make it sound like the only thing the Warblers care about is his talent.

"They _care_ ," Blaine says once he has swallowed back his coffee and the edge of bitterness that preceded it. "Maybe it's ridiculous but it's who we are."

The surprise on Kurt's face tells him he wasn't at all successful in hiding his feelings and he ducks his head, taking another sip of his coffee, as Kurt says, "Well, I guess at least they're dedicated. At the rate the New Directions are going, we won't even have enough members to compete this year. Not with Santana and Brittany leaving as well.”

Blaine takes it for the peace offering it is, a little surprised that Kurt is offering up information about the New Directions after Rachel’s speech yesterday and feeling a little ridiculous himself for letting his emotions get the better of him, and offers a sympathetic smile as he asks, “No luck on the auditions front, huh?”

The grimace on Kurt's face says it all, his fingers drumming across the edge of his cup as he sighs, “We managed to get the entire cast of _West Side Story together_ , but we can't even get four measly people to audition for the New Directions. And the worst part is that the Troubletones are seriously _good_.”

“I'm sure you guys will work it out,” Blaine offers gently, “I mean, you got that new kid to join didn't you?”

“I think Finn may have tricked him into thinking it would get him girls,” Kurt replies, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his coat before sighing as he glances up and mutters, “Not that it will matter anyway. Even if we do get the numbers to compete we're long-shots without Mercedes and Santana. And with the trainwreck that is the play, my NYADA application is going to be so embarrassingly thin on extracurriculars that they may as well be nonexistent."

"What about the student council?" Blaine asks, a little dazed at just how quickly their conversation has changed tracks. "I thought your campaign was going well?"

“Brittany has Santana running her campaign,” Kurt replies, frowning down at the lid of his coffee cup and sighing. “She has every girl in the school thinking that voting for her would somehow empower them and all the guys are voting for her because she's hot. Nobody cares that her campaign doesn't even make any sense.”

Blaine leans in, reaching out for Kurt's hand as he says, “Hey, I'm sure it can't be that bad.”

“How would you know? You aren't _there_.”

The response is so immediate, so bitter that Blaine draws back without even realizing it, his hands falling into his lap as he stares, watching Kurt hurriedly wipe the anger off of his face. He runs his tongue slowly over his lower lip, buying time as he breathes in slowly, before digging his fingers into his knees as he says, “Kurt – I.”

“I didn't mean that,” Kurt interrupts, looking up at him apologetically. “It's just – it's been a very long week and with everything with Rachel and Brittany – it feels like everyone who promised to help me is turning their backs on me. McKinley isn't Dalton, Blaine, just because someone might be the best person for the job it doesn't mean they'll _get_ the job.”

Blaine wants to ask why Kurt didn't just tell him, why he stopped talking to him this week. He wants to know exactly what happened at his audition and why Rachel is running for student body president too. He _wants_ to feel like he can tell Kurt about what is going on at Dalton without hesitating because he is too busy wondering what Kurt's reaction will be.

But he is suddenly wary, the resolve he had built up overnight slipping away in the face of Kurt's gloomy attitude and that first glimpse of vicious bitterness beneath Kurt’s badly constructed defences, so instead he deflects with a shrug and says, “Well maybe you just need to show them why you're the right person for the job.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, though his lips curl into the smallest of smiles as he reaches for his coffee. “I think you have a little too much faith in the McKinley student body.”

There is a response poised on the tip of his tongue as he amps up his smile, though it is swiftly cut off by an amused, “I thought I recognized that hair,” from somewhere over his shoulder.

Blaine's head jerks around, his eyes widening at the sight of Sebastian loitering just behind him, looking a little worse for wear with tousled hair and rumpled clothing, holding a large takeaway cup of coffee between both hands and smiling down at him. 

“Sebastian, hi,” he exclaims in surprise, sitting up a little straighter in his seat as he asks, “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking out the local scenery,” Sebastian replies with a strange smile, hooking a chair from an adjacent table and dragging it across to drop down next to him, glancing idly in Kurt's direction before turning back to Blaine. “Who's this?”

“This is my boyfriend, Kurt,” Blaine says, eyeing the fairly transparent expression of surprise Sebastian's wearing with growing suspicion. “Kurt, this is Sebastian.”

A quick glance in Kurt's direction is evidence enough that he isn't welcoming the intrusion, there is something steely in his gaze and his smile is stretched thin as he asks, “And how do we know Sebastian?”

“Sebastian transferred to Dalton this year,” Blaine replies, perhaps a little too quickly if the way Kurt raises his eyebrows at him is any indication. “We're in a few classes together.”

“Now, don't be modest, Blaine makes an excellent tour guide,” Sebastian says, leaning back in his chair as he takes a sip of his coffee and glances over in Blaine's direction, smirking as he adds, “Very thorough.”

There is a rapidly increasing probability that Blaine might actually kick him.

“Funny, Blaine's never mentioned you before,” Kurt replies with a dismissive cut of his eyes, reaching over the table to settle one of his hands over the back of Blaine’s.

Heat starts to rise up the back of Blaine's neck as he feels both sets of eyes turned towards him, Sebastian's far too amused and Kurt's entirely the opposite. He is pretty sure this is _exactly_ why he hadn't wanted to talk to Kurt about Dalton.

“It never came up,” Blaine replies, reaching for his coffee and feeling incredibly self-conscious, doing his utmost best to ignore the way that Sebastian grins as he subtly raises his cup towards him, like he is toasting him.

Kurt levels him with a look that says this is definitely not the last he will be hearing on the subject and Sebastian apparently gets the hint that he has already outstayed his welcome, flashing another broad grin as he gets back to his feet and announces, “I should get going. Let me know if you need a ride back to Dalton, won't you Blaine?”

Blaine glances up as Sebastian lingers just behind his chair, certain he felt the trace of fingertips against the heated skin of his neck, and replies, “I'll text you once I've heard back from the mechanic.”

“Great,” Sebastian says, taking a step backward and looking far too amused as he adds, “Later, Blaine. Kurt.”

With that Sebastian is gone, the bells above the door jangling in his wake, and a feeling of intense foreboding filling Blaine's chest as he turns back in his seat to face Kurt's thoroughly unamused stare. “Want to tell me what all that was about?”

That definitely did not go according to plan.

–

“So?”

One eyebrow is hitched just so and Kurt's face is maddeningly passive beyond the decidedly aggressive inflection in that one word.

They have moved on from the Lima Bean and are now holed up in Kurt's room, sitting opposite one another on Kurt's bed. Blaine should have known it would be too much to hope for that Kurt would let it slide.

“My car broke down,” Blaine replies, picking at the hem of his jeans as he speaks. “Sebastian offered me a ride home. That's the story.”

“Well, how about the _who is Sebastian_ part of the story?” Kurt asks, eyeing him pointedly. “You can skip the 'guy who flirts with my boyfriend in front of me' part, because I think I figured that out already.”

Heat flames in his cheeks, something ashamed squirming in his stomach as he eyes Kurt warily from behind his eyelashes. He has gotten so accustomed to how Sebastian acts around him that he hadn't considered what it might seem like to Kurt. 

“He's my Bio partner,” Blaine replies quietly. “And my friend, I suppose. He's harmless.”

“He's _seedy_ more like,” Kurt says with a wrinkle of his nose, the first sign of anything other than complete neutrality on his face. “And if he's such a good friend, why didn't you tell me about him?”

This is probably the time to say something, to ask why Kurt has seemingly decided that Dalton is a dirty word, but he finds the words won't come. Sticking in his throat when he sees just how tired Kurt looks, like he has the weight of the world hanging over him, and suddenly Blaine feels incredibly selfish for even thinking about putting even more stress on him.

“You're just so busy at the moment,” Blaine finds himself saying instead. “You have so much on your plate already and it didn't seem important.”

Kurt just looks at him, eyes hard like he doesn't entirely believe him, before he sighs and sinks back against his headboard. “I don't like him.”

The urge to defend Sebastian, to protest that Kurt doesn't even know him, is sudden and so unexpected that he has to bite his lower lip to stop himself. It's not like it really matters if Kurt likes his friends – he knows Kurt's opinions on most of the Warblers are less than favourable. There is no reason why him not liking Sebastian should mean anything.

Half the time _Blaine_ isn’t even sure he likes Sebastian.

“He's not that bad,” Blaine says instead, shrugging a little and offering a small smile in Kurt's direction. “I mean, he's no Kurt Hummel, but you can't hold that against him.”

“You're ridiculous,” Kurt informs him, though the smile he can't seem to keep off his face tells an entirely different story.

“I try,” Blaine agrees, “Besides, this is the first time we've been alone together for over three weeks, do you _really_ want to talk about Sebastian now?”

Kurt rolls his eyes, shifting up onto his knees as he says, “Subtle, Blaine.”

“I probably won't get to see you again for another two weeks,” Blaine replies with a shrug. “Subtlety is overrated.”

“You are so lucky you’re cute, Blaine Warbler,” Kurt replies.

As Blaine tips forward to drop a kiss to Kurt’s lips, he swears for the briefest moment it is almost like he can hear Sebastian laughing in the back of his head.

\--

Blaine doesn’t end up texting Sebastian.

There is something a little too much like guilt that stops him when the mechanic calls to tell him his car is ready to be picked up. Instead his father drives him back to Westerville on Sunday afternoon, insisting that he just wants to make sure the mechanic doesn’t try to rip Blaine off, though a part of Blaine kind of hopes that it was just because he wanted to.

During the school year he doesn’t spend a lot of time with his family and as awkward as they can be whenever they are around each other, a part of him still wishes they were closer. That they had set Friday night dinners or inside jokes, that his parents had embarrassing stories that they liked to pull out whenever they have company, like the way that Kurt’s dad always brings up Kurt’s short-lived stint on the football team whenever Kurt starts complaining during football season.

He knows that his father will never exactly be Burt Hummel levels of supportive and a part of him still aches every time he has to witness the ease that Kurt has with his father (that has always come so naturally for his own father with Cooper), and how completely secure Kurt is in the knowledge that his father adores him for everything he is. 

Blaine wishes, sometimes, that he could know what that must feel like, just one time.

But watching his father grill the mechanic about the repairs that have been done as he smooths a hand over the bumper of Blaine’s car, Blaine pushes those thoughts aside with only a lingering pang of regret. His family may not be like the Hummels, but Blaine knows better than to waste his time on wishing for impossible things. 

(For a brother who didn’t leave him behind when Blaine needed him the most. For a mother who doesn’t seem perpetually bemused by what to do with her own children. For a father who understands him. For parents who know how to show that they love him. For a _family_.)

Blaine thinks he knows better than anyone by now that you can’t always get what you want.

\--

If there is one thing that Blaine is starting to realize after his weekend at home, it is that maybe he has been depending a little too much on other people lately to get over the disappointment of not transferring to McKinley. It isn’t fair on any of them, but especially not on Kurt. 

Kurt is exhausted at the moment - between the lead role in the play and student elections and, now, helping out with his dad’s campaign as well - and Blaine can’t imagine how hard it must be, to be dealing with all of that and the drama with Rachel and Mercedes as well and then having to text Blaine during the day and turn around and make time to call him every night as well.

Remembering how upset he had been those two days that Kurt had missed their texts and nightly phone calls makes him feel a little ashamed now. Making those demands on Kurt’s time isn’t fair to him at all and two days, in the grand scheme of things, is barely a blip on the radar.

The last thing Kurt needs is more drama in his life.

Blaine thinks that maybe he just needs a challenge of his own, something to channel his energy into, and he knows exactly what he would like that to be.

However dire Kurt may have made the New Directions prospects this year seem, Blaine knows for a fact that they are fighters. They thrive under difficult conditions and Blaine isn’t willing to just roll over and let the Warblers be bested again like they were last year.

Kurt’s griping about the dance lessons Mr. Schuester has enforced on the New Directions may have tapered off again after their coffee date, but Blaine knows that the raw talent in their group far outweighs the loss of even a handful of their best singers. Blaine is starting to think that if the Warblers want to even have a chance at going to Nationals this year, they are going to have to really start shaking things up.

If there is one thing Blaine can guarantee for this year, it’s that they won’t be predictable.

Luckily, Blaine thinks he might have a few ideas to get them started.

It is how he finds himself running down the hall in pursuit of David between classes, excusing himself when he nearly knocks some poor, bewildered freshman over then practically beaming as he catches up and clamps a hand down on David’s shoulder. He takes a moment to try and steady his breath before he announces, "I have an idea."

"Sounds dangerous," David replies dryly, looking up from the screen of his phone to eye him with the same cautious bemusement that has been his default setting when it comes to Blaine since they first met. "Am I to take it that this idea has something to do with the texts you sent me asking me to arrange and distribute parts for ‘Last Friday Night’ the other day? Because it's _Monday_ , Blaine."

The abashed response of, "Maybe?" has David snorting back his amusement and stopping on the spot to turn and face him. 

"So what is this plan then?"

"I feel like we could all do with a morale boost, you know. Something to remind us why we joined the Warblers," Blaine announces, with what he hopes is his most winning smile.

This is, in fact, only the first step of his plan, but with the Warblers he has discovered that it is best to ease them into change.

David rolls his eyes, drumming his fingers contemplatively against the edge of his phone before he lets out a loud, beleaguered sigh and says, "I'll let the other guys know. Will one rehearsal be enough or do you want to try and wing it?"

Blaine is still always just a little bit surprised at how readily his fellow Warblers agree to his ideas. 

“Better make it two,” Blaine announces after a moment, brandishing his widest smile as he starts to walk backwards, “We want to show any potential new recruits our absolute best.”

There is something akin to fond exasperation on David's face for a moment as Blaine turns to leave before David is catching him by the elbow, his expression softening a little as he says, “It’s good to see you excited about the Warblers again, Blaine. We honestly thought you wouldn’t be coming back this year.”

It hits him again - just how caught up he has been in finally having a boyfriend that he had let the other things slide. He had never thought he would be the kind of person who would let his friendships suffer because of a boy.

“Well, I have it on good authority that the Warblers are going to Nationals this year and we’ve got some work to do if we’re going to beat the New Directions,” Blaine finds himself saying with a slow smile. “How could I possibly miss out on that?”

David grins at him, one of those genuine, brilliant smiles that Blaine hadn’t realized he hasn’t seen in a while as Blaine waves goodbye and turns on his heel, excitement and determination building beneath his skin as he grins to himself and carries on to his next class. 

Maybe Kurt is working himself to the bone building his resume for NYADA and student body elections and his father’s campaign, but Blaine has his own goals to achieve this year and he is starting to think that maybe giving his boyfriend that little bit of extra breathing room could turn out to be good for both of them.

And in the meantime, he has a National title to win.

\--

As it turns out, having a song to rehearse does actually seem to be working wonders for the Warblers.

The tedious practices that have been spent addressing the issue of who should step forward to take Wes’ place as the head of the council are put aside the moment David walks into practice with an armful of sheet music. There is a minimal amount of groaning when they see what the song actually is, but Blaine hides his smile the best he can when he notes no one is actually protesting.

It’s a start.

The bickering fades away as the different sections fall in together to start work, finding the best ways to build the song around their missing pieces and delighting with each new innovation. It’s a feeling that Blaine craves now, there is a certain kind of energy that comes from the part of the process where they are creating an arrangement.

This, he thinks, is one of the reasons that he has come to love a cappella so much. Every song becomes a process, a combination of the effort and creativity of the entire group, the end result the product of every part. It is the part that he doesn’t think Kurt was ever really able to understand about the Warblers. As much as Blaine loves the spotlight, the rush of commanding a stage, every Warbler has always been the sum of a greater whole.

It is comforting, in its own way.

Safe, Kurt would say.

Blaine is starting to think that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

\--

“You’re different,” James declares, eyeing him thoughtfully from across the table as he crunches at an apple. “Chirpier. I didn’t actually think that was possible.”

“Shut up,” Blaine replies immediately, digging his spoon back into his cereal but unable to stop the smile that is pulling at his lips. There is something about letting go a little, relaxing the frantic hold on his relationship (letting go of the part of him that had felt a little terrified that Kurt would just slip through his fingers if he didn’t) that has been strangely freeing.

James’s eyebrows rise skeptically and he takes another loud bite from his apple, humming as he sinks back in his seat and glances around the mostly empty cafeteria with an air of boredom. It is still early, there are a few other students clustered over in a corner talking quietly amongst themselves, but they are practically alone and it is clear that James is waiting for him to ask what he meant. 

If there is one thing Blaine has learnt about his roommate over the past few weeks, it is that he is a terrible gossip.

Blaine frowns a little, chewing on his mouthful of cereal and decides to wait him out. He eats another spoonful and then another as James nonchalantly chews at his apple, tilting his seat back onto two legs and staring up at the ceiling. 

The standoff doesn’t end up lasting very long. 

James keeps shooting him curious looks from the corner of his eye when he thinks Blaine isn’t looking, rocking carefully back and forth on his seat and trying to appear unbothered. It lasts up until he swallows his third bite of apple before he sighs and thunks his seat forward onto all four legs, his elbows hitting the table in front of him with a thump as he asks, “ _So_ , what’s up with you and Smythe?”

Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up, his spoon clanging against the side of his bowl with his distraction as he laughs and says, “What do you mean?”

“You were watching our lacrosse practice the other day,” James declares smugly, gesturing emphatically at him with his half-eaten apple. 

“Nothing’s _up_ with us,” Blaine replies with a wrinkle of his nose, tilting his head at James’s suddenly intent stare, “My car broke down and Sebastian offered me a ride.”

“I bet he did,” James laughs before taking another loud bite of his apple.

It takes Blaine a moment to catch on before he rolls his eyes and snorts, “What are you, _twelve?_ ”

“And a half,” James assures him seriously around a mouthful of apple.

Blaine grimaces, letting his spoon fall into his bowl as he sinks back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. Since that disastrous meeting in the Lima Bean, Blaine has been more aware than ever of trying to keep a friendly distance between Sebastian and himself.

“Look,” James swallows his mouthful and eyes him thoughtfully across the table, the grin dimming a little as he runs his fingers up through the artfully tousled crest of his dark hair. “I’ve just heard a few things over the past few days and I thought I’d give you a heads up, is all.”

“Well, I still have a boyfriend,” Blaine replies, maybe a little defensively, but the idea of people talking about him, even if it is relatively harmless, still makes him uncomfortable.

Blaine knows what rumors are capable of doing.

“Glad to hear it,” James says, smile returning as he reaches for his glass of juice and drains the last of it with one large gulp. “I’ll be sure to pass it on to anyone who seems confused on the matter.”

It is surprisingly sweet.

“Thank you,” Blaine says, defenses slipping as he offers a small smile of response.

James shrugs, pushing his chair back to stand up and says, “No problem, roomie. But, for the record, if you want people to actually _believe_ you, you should probably start working on not smiling like that when you hear his name.”

He is already walking away before Blaine realizes that he is just gaping at James’s back, his call of, “I do _not_ ,” greeted only with a vaguely amused wave over the shoulder as James tosses his apple core into the trash and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

The doors of the dining hall swing shut behind him, leaving Blaine to slump into his seat and wonder what else, exactly, James has been hearing.

\--

“What’s up with you?”

Blaine jerks back in his seat with surprise before craning his neck slowly around to look back at the table behind him. Sebastian is leaning back in his chair, head angled towards him and his voice low. The library is only stirred by the hushed, occasional whispers of the rest of their classmates, seemingly engrossed in their research.

He eyes Sebastian curiously, turning the watch in his pocket slowly between his fingers as he asks, “What do you mean?”

There is a part of him that half expects Sebastian to ask why he has been distancing himself, just a little, this week. He thinks there might even be a part of him that _hopes_ Sebastian will ask.

“It’s like you’ve been possessed by the Energizer Bunny. Again,” Sebastian says instead, tilting his chair back a little further so he can better see Blaine’s face. “What’s happening?”

Blaine glances quickly to where Nick, Jeff and Trent are still bent together over one book, talking in soft, urgent voices across the table before turning back to Sebastian and saying in his most serious voice, “That’s highly classified information.”

“Cute,” Sebastian retorts, smirking a little as his eyes track the movements of their teacher over by the admissions desk. He tilts his head a little, waiting until she is fully engrossed with her conversation with the librarian before Sebastian grabs the book he has been pretending to read and slides out of his chair to drop down into the seat next to Blaine instead.

“What are you doing?” Blaine asks, eyeing Sebastian curiously as he settles into the seat and flips his book open to a page at random, blatantly ignoring the entirely unsubtle looks from the group sitting opposite them.

“You seem tense,” Sebastian pointedly doesn’t answer, an entirely unconvincing expression of innocence painted across his face.

It looks ridiculous.

Blaine frowns, turning his eyes back to his book and reminds himself that, whatever James and his mystery sources might think, he is more than capable of just being friends with Sebastian.

“The Warblers have a performance planned,” he admits with that thought in mind, the jittery excitement that precedes a performance skittering through his fingers until he is drumming them against the tabletop. 

The chance look he shoots in Sebastian’s direction reveals an amused smile as he asks, “Nervous, Anderson?”

“Of course not,” Blaine replies, narrowing his eyes and shifting just a little so he doesn’t have to crane his neck so far to look at him. “It’s just the first performance of the year. It would be nice to start off on a good foot.”

Sebastian hums beneath his breath, glancing back down at his book in the pretense of reading and says, “From what I hear there’s nothing to worry about, I’m told that Blaine Anderson’s kind of a legend around these parts.”

Blaine shifts in his seat but refuses to even acknowledge that.

“I think the terms ‘ _sex on a stick and sings like a dream_ ’ may have been used,” Sebastian adds softly, though Blaine can see the curve of his smirk if he looks. Which he most certainly is not.

Blaine resists the urge to swat at him with his book, heat flaring beneath his skin as he becomes far too aware of the way Nick and Jeff are smirking down at their notes while Trent stares unabashedly across the table at them. 

“We’ll have to see if you live up to the hype,” Sebastian continues beneath his breath and Blaine is almost certain he sees him wink across the table at Trent before Sebastian’s eyes snap back to his book, appearing entirely immersed as the slap of their teacher’s flats moves towards them.

Something warm pools in his stomach as he shifts uncomfortably, staring blankly down at the page of his book as he determinedly goes back to running through his part in his head. 

He doesn’t care that Sebastian was most likely just trying to embarrass him, Blaine is suddenly determined to show him exactly what he is capable of.

\--

The senior commons is already crowded when Blaine pushes through the door with Jeff, Nick and Trent trailing in his wake. He knows that Sebastian isn’t far behind them, undoubtedly wearing that same smirk he has been wearing since they left the library, the one that Blaine is determined to wipe off his face, if only so Jeff and Nick will stop looking at him like that.

It has been a very long time since he has felt like he had to prove anything to the Warblers.

A quick glance around the assembled crowd tells him that almost all the Warblers are already here and as he discards his satchel in the corner, feeling surer already as the others fall into loose formation and familiarity soothes the nerves, the last of the stragglers slip in through the doors.

After that, it’s easy.

The arrangement still isn’t perfect, but the bones of it have come together fantastically and more than anything, it is fun. All of the nervous energy flees the moment he starts the first verse and by the chorus he is balancing his way across the back of one of the couches.

Blaine had almost forgotten how good the endless enthusiasm of their fellow students can make him feel, how much better the Warblers sound when they are having fun as well. Sometimes it feels like competitions suck the life out of their performances and that is something he is definitely determined to work on this year.

Later, he will swear to himself that it isn’t even intentional that he seeks out Sebastian amidst the crowd, and he certainly didn’t intend finding him to coincide with the lyrics, _we went streaking in the park, skinny dipping in the dark, then had a ménage-a-trois_ , but he plays it off with a laugh as he moves along. By the time their voices have been replaced by enthusiastic applause and Nick has him in what he is pretty sure classifies as a friendly headlock, he has almost forgotten it had even happened. 

The high of the performance has them all grinning at each other as the rest of the student body start to filter away out the doors, headed for the cafeteria or their next classes, and Blaine is just about to tell them how fantastic they had been when he realizes that there is someone waiting just behind him.

Nick releases his grip as Blaine turns, not entirely surprised to find Sebastian standing there, lips curved in amusement as he asks, “So, when are you holding auditions?”

\--

It takes exactly half a song and a grand total of about one minute for the Warblers to come to a decision about Sebastian Smythe.

Blaine is kind of surprised it took them that long.

He is starting to suspect that there are very few things in the world that Sebastian wants that he doesn't end up getting, sooner or later.

–

The text arrives as he is hurrying to his next class of the day and he is so caught up in fumbling to slide his phone out of his pocket and trying not to walk into the dawdling group of guys in front of him, that it takes him a good thirty seconds to actually process the message he finds staring up at him. _Do you think I'm boring?_

For a moment he stares down at it in confusion, almost walking straight into another student heading in the opposite direction and muttering distracted apologies as he texts back a bemused, _Are you crazy? You're the single most interesting kid in all of Ohio._

Blaine makes it to his class just in time but there is a distinctly uneasy feeling settling into his stomach as he slides his phone back inside his pocket and settles into his seat. He does his best to ignore the twinge at the corner of Sebastian's lip as he unpacks his folder.

Communication may have been a little slow between the two of them for the past few days, what with Kurt entering into the final stages of rehearsals for the play and Blaine determined to give him a little breathing room, but he still can't imagine what could have inspired that particular question. If there is one thing Kurt Hummel has never been, it is boring.

“You should come out with me.”

Blaine glances over, forehead wrinkling in confusion at the mildly expectant expression he finds on Sebastian's face. The classroom is mostly quiet, reduced to whispers as they copy down notes from the board, but Sebastian doesn't seem particularly bothered by the potential for people overhearing their conversation.

Apparently the expression on his face must make his confusion clear because Sebastian scoffs beneath his breath, glancing over from the corner of his eye as he laughs and says, “No, Blaine, I haven't forgotten that you have a _boyfriend_. I was suggesting you come out with me as a friend this weekend.”

He isn't sure why it is so surprising to him that Sebastian would want to spend time with him outside of school, but it takes a moment for him to shut down the surprise that starts to build beneath the surface, to snap his jaw shut and say, “I don't know.”

There is something a little amused in Sebastian's expression that tells Blaine his surprise hadn't passed entirely without note, but as Sebastian quirks his head, lips curving slowly upwards and says, “Oh, come on, Anderson. I'll pick you up a fake ID, we can head over to Scandals in Lima.”

“The gay bar?” Blaine asks, eyebrows furrowing as recognition hits him.

Jeremiah had mentioned it once or twice before that whole Gap fiasco and Blaine had driven past a few times, spurred on by mild curiosity and that embarrassing crush, on his way home from visiting Kurt, but beyond that...

“I'll tell you what, you can even bring your boyfriend along if you're frightened of getting carried off by the bears,” Sebastian continues, turning in his seat just enough that he can look Blaine in the eye as he says, “Come on, Blaine, live a little.”

“I don't know Sebastian, Kurt's really busy with play rehearsals at the moment,” Blaine says as he looks away, focusing back on the notes he has been taking and taking a deep breath before he adds, “I'll think about it.”

“I'm going to hold you to that,” Sebastian replies with another smile, something a little pointed in the look he sends Blaine's way before turning back to his own notes.

It's all a little too easy.

\--

When Kurt calls him that night it is clear that he is preoccupied from the moment Blaine answers the phone.

He is uncharacteristically quiet for a start, their conversation strained and uncertain in a way that Blaine can't ever remember happening between them outside of their few, memorable arguments. It almost sounds like Kurt is trying to work his way up to asking him something but he can't quite bring himself to do it. 

Blaine tries to fill the lulls in conversation with a few hesitant stories from his day, waiting for the first sign of the usual annoyance that shows up whenever Blaine talks about Dalton to surface, but all he gets are distracted and vaguely encouraging noises.

It is exactly how he _knows_ that Kurt isn't actually listening to him and Blaine doesn't know what to make of it.

Kurt had been the one to call him, after not so much as an explanation for that strange text earlier and Blaine is running out of things to talk about, chewing on the end of his pen as he tries to figure out what to say before it comes to him. “So, Sebastian invited us to a gay bar this weekend.”

He hears Kurt breathe in sharply, the first real indication that he has heard a word Blaine has said during the entire phone call and it feels a little like a victory, still he adds a softer, “We don't have to go. I told him how busy you are with play rehearsals and everything and I really think he was just being nice, anyway. I wasn't even planning to come home this weekend.”

“No,” Kurt replies too quickly, his voice coming out a little breathless before he clears his throat and Blaine can practically hear him gathering his composure before he adds. “No, I mean, if _you_ want to go, we could -”

Blaine sinks back against his pillows, confusion wrinkling his forehead as he stares up at his ceiling and asks, “Did you? Want to go, I mean?”

“It could be fun?” Kurt says, though it sounds more like a question than an actual answer.

In any case, it isn't the answer that Blaine had expected when he had promised Sebastian he would get back to him.

“Um, okay,” he finds himself saying, determinedly trying to ignore the way that James is staring directly at him from his own bed with a look of morbid fascination. “I guess I'll tell Sebastian we're in then.”

Blaine doesn't know whether he should be excited about it or not, instead he throws a pillow in James’s general direction and decides not to think too hard about it after he hangs up the phone.

\--

Sebastian grins at him, all teeth and a hint of those crinkles at the corner of his eyes when Blaine pulls him aside during gym class to tell him that he and Kurt are both in, and his excitement is just a little contagious. 

It makes something stupidly light fill his chest as they stand side by side at the edge of the basketball court, listening as Coach runs through the lesson. Blaine spends half of the speech pointedly ignoring the way Sebastian keeps smirking and dropping his eyes down to Blaine’s legs (he is almost certain at this point that Sebastian is just doing it to mess with him) and the rest glaring when he notices the way Jeff keeps smiling a little too widely at them.

Blaine is pretty sure that hanging out with Sebastian Smythe, however fun it might prove to be, is going to lead him into nothing but trouble.

What he (and that stupid fluttery feeling he has started getting when Sebastian cons him into doing something) can’t seem to decide is whether or not that trouble is actually going to be worth it.

\--

"This doesn't even look like me," Kurt says as he squints down through the dim traces of streetlight at the fake ID in his hand, nose wrinkled, as they make their way towards the entrance.

It is the first thing outside of 'hi' and 'yes' and 'no' he has said since he arrived to pick Blaine up from his house just a little over half an hour ago - and that's not even the weirdest part.

At first Blaine had thought it was just a delayed reaction to realizing they are going to be in Sebastian’s company for the rest of the night, that maybe Kurt has been having second-thoughts since he agreed to this, and he has been poised to ask if he wants to cancel and just go see a movie instead. 

But then there are the touches; fingers that skim over his shoulder or curl around his wrist, smooth the wrinkles from his shirt and straighten his bowtie, he had grabbed Blaine’s hand when they were walking to the car. And it isn’t that they don’t _touch_ , it’s that these touches feel different, more purposeful; like whatever it is that Kurt can’t bring himself to say he is trying to show him. 

And there are the looks, glances from the corner of Kurt’s eye, like he doesn't want Blaine to know that he is looking, and Blaine is certain he had caught Kurt blushing at one point in the car for no reason he has been able to determine. 

Blaine really just wants to know what is going on.

There aren't as many cars outside as Blaine had expected, but it is still early and he is hoping that maybe a fun night out and doing something different, something new for once, will be enough to get Kurt to open up about whatever it is that is bothering him. 

"Sebastian said they don't even check them," Blaine says, glancing down at his own ID with a faint smile that he can’t seem to restrain, the low hum of excitement he has been feeling all day building as he eyes the neon sign above the doorway. "Look, mine says I'm forty. They'll work."

True to Sebastian's word the guy at the door barely gives them or their IDs a second glance before he waves them inside with a gloomy expression. Blaine nudges Kurt's arm pointedly, beaming over at him until he gets a small smile in response. 

From the inside, Scandals isn't really what Blaine had expected. It doesn’t look anything like the gay bars he has seen on television or the one he had conjured up in his head.

Blaine leans over to mutter, "It's not very scandalous," into Kurt's ear, as they carefully circle around the busy pool tables and he gets another smile for the effort.

It is still early, he knows, but the depressed looking clientele look like they are all about the same age as his dad, with a few exceptions. Like the one waving them over from the bar.

Blaine raises a hand to wave back, adding a bright, "I see Sebastian."

"I still don't like that guy," Kurt says, quietly enough that Blaine isn't sure he is even supposed to hear it as they start towards him.

"He's harmless," Blaine insists, reaching over to nudge his arm against Kurt’s, "You'll see. This will be great."

Kurt doesn’t look convinced but Sebastian is smiling widely at them as they approach, catching Blaine’s eye for just a moment before he turns away to accept drinks from the bartender. Blaine studies the quick flash of his smile, the casual way Sebastian thanks the bartender like he has done this a hundred times before, just a little fascinated by how natural he makes this seem as he turns back to them, offering the bottle to Blaine with a smile.

"A beer for Blaine,” Sebastian says as he presses the bottle into his hand in lieu of a greeting and reaches back for the other glass without dropping eye contact. Blaine looks away first, studying the back-lit bar with more interest than it probably merits until he hears Sebastian talking to Kurt, turning his attention back to them as Kurt awkwardly accepts a glass overladen with cherries and an obnoxious cocktail umbrella with one hand.

Sebastian is smiling, the expression strangely fixed as he says, “I heard you're the designated driver. Like all the time."

The narrow eyed expression on Kurt’s face makes Blaine uneasy, the last thing he wants is to be caught between them sniping all night, so he takes a careful sip of his beer and hopes Kurt will just let it go. He eyes them both nervously until Sebastian turns away, glancing back to him as he raises his glass to clink against Blaine’s bottle with a wry smile and says, “Cheers, boys. Here’s to the glamorous life.”

Blaine just hopes they will make it through the entire night without them trying to kill each other.

He should have known this would be a bad idea.

\--

Blaine is pretty sure that this is the best idea he has ever had.

One beer turns to four much quicker than he had anticipated when he has Sebastian pressing them into his hand, laughing against his ear as he says Blaine should come along more often and muttering something about honeytraps that Blaine misses, too preoccupied by the fascinating glow of light through bottles behind the bar, but has Kurt glaring over from his perch at the bar. 

It is nice, actually, the way that the alcohol softens things and lets the sharp focus of the growing chill between Kurt and Sebastian dull to something unimportant and uninteresting in the back of his mind. The part of Blaine that had secretly hoped that if Kurt spent some time around Sebastian it would ease some of his fears is a little less bitterly disappointed after a few beers.

And really, it’s not like Blaine lets himself do this very often. 

During the school year they are so busy with school work and Warbler commitments that going out like this is practically inexcusable. The free time he does have is now committed to spending time with Kurt when he can - but they have never been all that adventurous. They have coffee and mall dates and movie nights, or if they are feeling particularly bold they’ll go out for dinner. It is nice and it is sweet and it is really kind of predictable.

Drinking isn't something that is encouraged by Dalton policies and Dalton parties are usually reserved for end of term celebrations or holidays and even then they make sure to be careful. He has only been drunk once in Kurt’s company before and the disaster that had been the aftermath of Rachel’s party has made him wary, until now, but he is having fun and he doesn’t see why that has to be such a bad thing.

Blaine likes parties. He likes beer. He likes feeling like a normal teenager. He likes music and, more than that, he likes dancing. It has been a long and confusing week and Blaine is determined to have fun tonight. With or without Kurt’s approval.

It only takes those four beers and one song he recognizes to coax him towards the growing crowd on the dance floor, and while Kurt refuses to follow with any amount of enticing, Sebastian is more than happy to oblige him. The faces around them are little more than smears of features, unimportant in his peripheral vision, but Sebastian is still smiling at him, one of the wide, eye-crinkling ones that Blaine can’t seem to help smiling back at, when he reaches out for Blaine’s hand to spin him.

After the frustration and uncertainty of the past few weeks; of not ever seeming to be able to keep up with what is going on with Kurt and the strange tension that seems to grow more evident each time he dares to bring up Dalton or the Warblers, it feels good to just unwind. To let go and have fun for once.

And the part of him that is trying to pretend he isn’t just a little bit annoyed, that wants to know why Kurt had even said they should come if he is just going to sit at the bar and stubbornly refuse to have any fun at all, tells him that just because Kurt is happy to sit at the bar it doesn’t mean that he can’t have any fun. 

Sebastian at least seems up for the challenge. Blaine doesn’t know how long they have been dancing now, the songs all seeming to fade into each other, but more than anything it has been _fun_. Sebastian has been adding his own running commentary on the other patrons into Blaine's ear while they dance and while most of it filters out, obscured by the music, Blaine has been laughing all night.

Speaking of.

"Uh-oh, don't look now," Sebastian says as he leans in to speak into Blaine's ear, his breath fanning hot against his neck, "Boo-Boo's making his move."

Blaine frowns a little in confusion, following Sebastian's eyes back to the bar where a guy he thinks seems familiar has just dropped down onto the stool neighboring Kurt's.

"Boo-Boo?" Blaine asks, wrinkling his nose a little in confusion as he glances back to Sebastian and receives a wide grin.

"Bear-cub," Sebastian clarifies. "I've seen him around before. He looks like he's gotten into a few too many picnic baskets."

Blaine bites back the laugh that threatens to spill from his mouth, because that was really kind of mean, and cranes his neck back towards the bar. Kurt has turned towards the guy whose face is shadowed by the baseball cap he is wearing, and seems to be talking to him. He tilts his head a little, wondering why the guy looks so familiar, before he asks, "Do you think I should go over there?"

Sebastian snorts, "Your boyfriend doesn't seem all that bothered - and what would you do, Anderson, you're like half his size."

It is punctuated by a light tap of Sebastian’s finger against the center of his chest and Blaine scowls, the glare he shoots Sebastian's way not seeming to have any effect at all. Instead Sebastian arches his eyebrows as he says, "Didn't pick you for the jealous type, Anderson."

"I'm not jealous," Blaine replies immediately.

He doesn’t realize just how much closer he has moved towards Sebastian in order to be heard until he has to tip his head back to better see Sebastian’s face, his eyes fixed on the way Sebastian bites his lip to hold back laughter as he says, "Maybe not, but your boyfriend is."

Blaine doesn't understand what he means or why Sebastian winks at him until Kurt is suddenly pushing his way between them.

He practically beams once he realizes who it is who has grabbed his hand, trying to ignore how aggressively Kurt crowds Sebastian out, because seeing Kurt finally leave his seat makes him think that maybe the night won’t have to be a complete disappointment for them after all. 

\--

They end up lasting one more drink and Sebastian insisting that Blaine dance with him to three different 'favorite' songs before Kurt cuts in, eyes hard and any pretense at good humor disappearing as he insists that they really need to be going. They say goodbye to Sebastian at the bar and Kurt guides him to the door with a hand pressed to his lower back.

Blaine can't seem to stop smiling, the warm haze of alcohol made all the more evident by the rush of cold air as they leave the bar. He leans into Kurt as they walk, feeling warm and a little sloppy and so incredibly happy as he says, "I just want to live here."

Kurt makes a vague noncommittal noise in response, fingers squeezing tighter at Blaine's waist where he has wrapped his arm in an attempt to keep Blaine upright and on track.

"I'm serious," Blaine assures him, stumbling a little when the curb appears out of nowhere and jostling into Kurt's side with a determined, "I want to live here and make art and help people."

"Well, _I_ want to go home," Kurt replies stiffly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the pleasant bubble Blaine has been drifting in, his forehead furrowing in confusion as Kurt adds, "I think I've been more than humiliated enough for one night already."

Blaine frowns, trying to disengage from Kurt's grip enough to get a better look at him as he asks, "You didn't have fun?"

The disbelief on Kurt's face is answer enough, but after Kurt pauses, dropping his arm away from Blaine to dig angrily into his pocket for his keys, his response makes it even clearer. "Oh no, Blaine. I just loved spending the entire night watching that smug meerkat face dance and flirt with _my_ boyfriend."

Blaine pauses, breathing slowly and blinking at him through the dim light before he says, "Sebastian's just -"

There is a loud huff of disbelief and Kurt turns away, shaking his head as he scoffs, "I swear to god Blaine, I know you aren’t always the brightest crayon in the box but even you can’t be _that_ stupid."

The sting of that comment makes him flinch back, clearing his head enough that he can see just how angry Kurt is as he turns away to unlock the car door.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Blaine asks, his arms rising subconsciously to curl across his chest as the warmth starts to subside and the realization that Kurt isn’t just angry but that he’s angry at _him_ hits home.

There is only the jangle of the keys as Kurt struggles to find the right one amidst the bunch, squinting through the dark and muttering the entire time before he finally wrenches the drivers side door open and turns back to Blaine, his eyes suspiciously bright as he says, "Why do you always have to ruin everything? I wanted - I had this weekend all planned, okay. We were going to come and make an appearance at this stupid bar and then we’d go back to my place early because I managed to convince Finn to stay over at Puck’s even if I know he’s really just sneaking over to Rachel’s and Dad and Carole are out on the campaign trail all weekend, I have the playlist I made queued up on the stereo and I spent forever deciding which sheets to use and it was going to be _perfect_. But you had to get drunk and spend all night hanging all over that jerk and -"

"Kurt, I don't know what you're talking about," Blaine interjects, his head throbbing and his stomach churning because somehow he has screwed up and now Kurt is angry at him and he doesn’t even know why. "And Sebastian isn't a jerk he's just -"

"Great, now you're defending him," Kurt says, throwing his hands up and taking a step back, "Do I have to spell it out for you, Blaine? I was going to have sex with you tonight."

There is only silence after that. Blaine can hear the faint thump of the bass from the bar and the sound of traffic further off, he can even hear the faint sound of laughter and voices from further down the road, but all of it sounds distant and foreign in the wake of that announcement.

They haven't even _talked_ about sex - not since that attempt at a mature discussion during the summer where they had decided to take it slow, fuelled in part by Kurt’s inability to even voice what he might want. That is what they do. They talk about things - they don’t just spring them on each other out of nowhere like this. He is pretty sure he must have misheard.

“What?”

Blaine can see the moment that Kurt’s defenses go up, the way he stiffens and retreats, fingers curling around the edge of the doorframe as he snaps, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to know that your own friends don’t even see you as a real man? That they don’t think you’re capable of pulling off a role in a play because you’re too _delicate?_ That they automatically blame a lack of on-stage chemistry on the fact that you’re _gay_ and a _virgin_ rather than the fact that you have to play opposite _Rachel Berry?_ That even your own boyfriend doesn’t think of you in _that_ way?”

It’s like a warning shot that has him sluggishly trying to get his thoughts together, taking a step cautiously forwards as he says, “Kurt - of course I -”

Kurt shakes it off, breathing in sharply as he snaps, “Don’t try and tell me you’d be shocked if it was _Sebastian_ who said he wanted to sleep with you tonight.”

“That isn’t fair,” Blaine replies, wishing his head would just stop spinning so he could try and figure out what it is he is supposed to be saying.

“Not that it even matters,” Kurt laughs out bitterly, “I’ve never felt less like being intimate with someone in my life than I do right now, even if you _weren’t_ too drunk to remember it tomorrow.”

Kurt turns on his heel, fingers squeezing hard at the door frame before he shakes his head and mutters, “Get in the car, Blaine.”

He doesn’t move.

There is something trembling in his fingers as they twist tight into the fabric of his shirt, burning behind his eyes and settling hurt and angry in his chest. And maybe Kurt is upset - maybe he has every _right_ to be upset - but now Blaine is kind of upset too.

“Were you even going to let me have a say in this?” 

Kurt looks up, the expression on his face so exasperated and angry and desperately hurt that Blaine almost wants to let it go. To just get in the car and beg Kurt’s forgiveness tomorrow, when he has slept off the beer and suffered through his hangover.

But the part of Blaine that has been confused and waiting for an explanation all week - wondering why he is getting weird texts or why Kurt won’t even talk to him - the part of him that is still smarting from being called _stupid_ and having the next, huge step in their relationship decided without his knowledge refuses to budge. 

“Blaine, just get in the car, I want to go home,” Kurt says, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You didn’t even want to come here, did you?” Blaine continues, taking another step back from the car and shivering as the cold starts to register to his alcohol flushed skin. 

“What do you think?” Kurt replies exasperatedly, “Did you honestly believe I wanted to watch _him_ drool over you all night?”

That is all the confirmation he needs, really.

Blaine turns on his heel and starts walking back across the parking lot in the direction they had come from, his heart thumping uncomfortably loud in his chest as he realizes just what that means. 

Kurt yells, “Where are you going?” at his back and he pauses, fingers digging into his arms as he turns slowly on his heel.

His voice sounds strange to his own ears, sharp and angry as he replies, “I’ll find my own way home,” before he keeps on walking.

\--

He is sitting on the edge of the curb outside the bar, staring down at the screen of his phone and starting to shiver a little as he debates his options when Sebastian drops down to sit beside him, long legs stretched lazily out in front of him.

“I thought you and the boyfriend would be long gone by now,” Sebastian says, eyeing him curiously when Blaine turns his head slowly to look at him.

Blaine can’t imagine what he must look like - the anger has transformed into something else, turned inwards as he tries to focus on the practical things. Like how the hell he is going to get home. Sebastian’s expression is neutral enough that he mustn’t look half as confused as he feels.

“We had a fight,” Blaine says, glancing back down at the screen of his phone, thumb hovering over the entry in his contacts that he really doesn’t want to call.

To his credit, Sebastian doesn’t push him, he just raises an eyebrow a little and says, “I’m guessing he took off then.”

“I’m wondering if I have enough cash to pay for a taxi or if I’m going to have to call my parents,” Blaine replies, eyeing his home number on the screen with a grimace.

They’d had a function tonight - something with his mom’s work, he thinks. There is no guarantee they will even be home yet. If they did find out where he has been tonight he seriously doubts that he would be allowed to go out (or see Kurt) again for the rest of the semester.

“Good thing I found you then,” Sebastian replies lightly, “I don’t charge and, coincidentally, I’m not your parents.”

Blaine glances over at him dubiously, at the neutral expression on his face as he says, “You’ve been drinking.”

“I had _two_ drinks, hours ago and plenty of water,” Sebastian corrects him with an amused smile, “Not all of us drink anything that gets put in front of them, rockstar. Now did you want that ride or not? It’s a long walk to Ada.”

It softens the edge of anger that is still lurking close beneath the surface of his skin, his eyes dropping as he says, “Yes, thank you, that would be great.”

Sebastian snorts, shoving him in the shoulder just a little before pushing himself back to his feet and turning to stare down at him, lips quirking a little as he extends both hands to help Blaine up. 

Blaine lets himself be hauled up, stumbling with the momentum and ending up with his face mashed into Sebastian’s chest. He is there long enough to register the warm, pleasant scent of Sebastian’s cologne before there are hands on his shoulders, pushing him upright and Sebastian is laughing out, “Easy there, Anderson.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine assures him, determinedly shaking off the embarrassment that settles beneath his skin as Sebastian’s hands slip off his shoulders.

“You sure?” Sebastian asks as he takes a step back, tilting his head a little to indicate Blaine should follow him, “Because there’s no throwing up in my car.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Blaine says as he shoves his phone back into his pocket, patting a hand over the shape of his wallet to ensure it is still there before following Sebastian’s lead. “Thanks for this, Sebastian. I really appreciate it.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” Sebastian says, the word ‘friend’ rolling strangely across his tongue as he nudges at Blaine’s arm lightly to point out his car a few spots ahead, his voice just a little too casual as he adds, “But if it makes you feel better, let’s just say you owe me.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Blaine replies and receives an amused smile in response.

“Only if you want it to be.”

\--

Sunday morning is spent feeling sorry for himself, drinking as much water as he can and trying to wallow away the worst of his hangover in the dark of his room while he ignores how stubbornly silent his phone has remained all morning. He had sent a text to Kurt last night after Sebastian had dropped him off to tell him he had gotten home safely, but he has yet to recieve a reply.

He has spent the entire morning wondering just how angry Kurt really is and if he should maybe be _more_ angry about this. Every time the fight plays back in his mind, hazy and a little confused, he only seems to find more evidence that Kurt doesn't trust him. A part of him is still stung that Kurt had agreed to go to Scandals under the presumption that he would - that he hadn’t even tried to talk to him before he had attempted to trick him into -

That isn't fair.

\- Blaine knows how hard it is for Kurt to talk about sex. It is one of the reasons why they had agreed to take things slowly, to build up to a place where they could both be comfortable. He still really doesn’t understand what could have changed within the space of one week.

Mostly he is tired and wishes he could get rid of that part of him that insists that what he is actually feeling is used. Neither of which are things that he wants to be feeling when he thinks about Kurt. 

He hates the way that fighting with Kurt makes him feel.

They'd had plans to do something today but he can’t help but think that if Kurt won't even text him he can’t want to see him - and Blaine isn’t sure that _he_ wants to see Kurt. 

It’s not like he is entirely oblivious to that side of his boyfriend, but he has never, to his knowledge, had it directed at him before. It’s not a very nice feeling.

And what if they are broken up? Maybe that is why Kurt isn’t replying to his text. It's not like Blaine has ever been broken up with (or broken up with anyone) before - neither of them had _said_ it was over but maybe that is what Kurt had meant.

The fight still feels like something unreal, something out of a terrible movie he had once watched, that refuses to play out the way it should. Maybe Kurt had even said it was over and Blaine had just been too drunk to remember. (Or maybe he was just too _stupid_ to figure it out.)

The buzz of his phone across the bedside table has him rolling over to reach for it, blindly unlocking the screen before he squints down at it, breath catching in his throat with hope before it escapes in a sigh.

_How's the head, Killer?_

Blaine rubs at his eyes, sinking back against his pillows as he types back a miserable, _Awful_ , and presses send.

Of course it is Sebastian. Lately it seems like Sebastian is always there whenever Blaine really needs someone.

The response comes quickly, buzzing back in only a matter of seconds with, _That's what you get for trying to drink your way out of the bar._

Blaine laughs in surprise, wincing at the way that makes his head ache a little harder and his phone buzzes again in his hand before he can even begin to reply.

_It sounds like you could use a pick me up._

Blaine stares down at the message in confusion, wondering what that is even supposed to mean before he hears the doorbell ring.

With a grimace and more than a sneaking suspicion that he isn't really prepared to deal with what he is going to find, Blaine hauls himself out of bed. The slow trek downstairs is greeted with two more chimes of the bell and he really isn't all that surprised when he finally pulls open the door to find Sebastian standing on the other side, looking far too cheerful and put-together considering how much sleep he had to have gotten.

He is, however, grateful enough for the coffee Sebastian extends instead of a greeting that he forgoes the scowl he wants to respond with and instead grabs at the offering greedily with a mumbled, “Thank you.” 

"What are you doing here?" he asks after he has taken a sip, licking his lips to chase away the taste - stronger than his usual order, but he thinks he could learn to like it.

Sebastian ignores the question entirely in favor of smirking down at him, arching his eyebrows high with surprise as he says, "You have curly hair."

Blaine reaches blindly for his hair in horror, patting a hand over the tangled, fluffy mess (still suffering from his late-night attempt at washing out the gel) and glaring when he notes the amused expression on Sebastian's face. "Shut up."

"It’s like a sheep got stuck to your head," Sebastian laughs, reaching out to pluck at the end of one curl before Blaine swats his hand away with a scowl.

"Why do you think I gel it every day?" he grumbles back, dragging at the hem of his t-shirt and suddenly feeling wildly self-conscious, standing at his front door in his oldest, most comfortable pajamas.

"It's kind of sexy, Anderson," Sebastian says, eyeing the tangles speculatively, “You look like you just woke up from a very good night.”

That is enough to make him cringe, Kurt's accusations from the night before ringing in his ears as he turns away, ruffling a hand through his hair (because it's not like it can get any worse) and trying desperately not to blush as he takes a step back from the door and asks, "Did you want to come in?"

Sebastian smirks, "I was planning on dragging you out for lunch but clearly you aren't up for that yet. Heard from the boyfriend?"

It doesn’t sound nearly as innocent as Blaine suspects Sebastian was aiming for and Blaine ends up taking an extra long sip of his coffee to consider his answer before he decides on, "I don't want to talk about it."

"So that would be a no then," Sebastian says as the door snaps shut behind him, ignoring Blaine’s scowl in favor of glancing around the entrance way with blatant interest before his eyes light up at the sight of a set of baby photos. “No way - is this you?”

“And my brother,” Blaine replies, resisting the urge to pull Sebastian away from them and instead heading off towards the kitchen in the hopes Sebastian will follow. “He lives in LA now.”

“It looks like one of those stock-photos they sell with the frames,” he hears Sebastian saying as he pushes through the door.

“There’s nothing Cooper loves more than a camera,” Blaine mutters in response as he places his coffee on the kitchen island and turns to find Sebastian leaning in the doorway. “You said something about lunch?”

\--

It takes a while but eventually Sebastian coaxes him into getting dressed and takes him out for lunch, ignoring Blaine’s protests about not being hungry and feeling far too hungover to go out. By the time they get back to Blaine’s house that afternoon he realizes his phone has stayed in his pocket for the entire afternoon.

The distraction, it turns out, is exactly what he had needed.

\--


	3. Chapter 3

\--

If there is one thing Blaine has discovered about Dalton, it is that news travels fast - usually when you least want it to.

"Heard you're having boyfriend troubles."

Blaine grimaces into his pillow, briefly considering the benefits of continuing to pretend he is asleep when James clearly knows he isn’t, before sighing and turning his head to glare over at his roommate who seems entirely too cheerful, considering his line of questioning.

He is pretty sure he might actually kill Sebastian for this.

James is still wearing his workout clothes from his morning run, sitting on the edge of his bed as he sniffs experimentally at yesterday's shirt. It is clearly found to be acceptable, because it gets added to the rest of his pile of today’s uniform.

"I'm starting to find your investment in my relationship both invasive and creepy," Blaine yawns, resisting the urge to burrow his face back into his pillow. 

"I’m hurt, roomie. Don’t you remember the speech we got back when we first moved into the dorms? ‘ _Your roommate is your family away from home,_ ’” James moves on to eyeing a pair of balled up socks speculatively before ultimately throwing them in the general direction of his laundry pile. “I'm just saying that if you wanted to like, talk about it or sing about it or whatever it is you Warblers do in times of hardship -”

"I'm fine," Blaine insists, before rolling over to plant his face back into his pillow.

James apparently gets the hint because he leaves for his shower with only an awkward pat to Blaine’s back on his way out. 

Unfortunately, James is only the first of many wishing to pass on their condolences.

Blaine knows what is coming the moment he locks eyes with Jeff in the hall but the wide-eyed concern is still a little too much to handle before he has even made it through first period.

There are the concerned eyes and a hand planted on his shoulder before Jeff asks, "Are you okay?"

Blaine grimaces and rubs at the bridge of his nose as he insists, "We haven't broken up."

At least he doesn't think so.

"Oh," Jeff replies, shifting awkwardly on the spot as his hand drops back to his side. "That's, um, good?"

And it doesn't end there.

Nick solemnly pats him on the shoulder as they pass in the hallway and is gone before Blaine can tell him not to, Thad drags him into the most uncomfortable three minute-long, full-bodied hug of his lifetime on the staircase and shushes him everytime he tries to protest and he gets no less than five full-length texts from Trent over the course of the morning detailing exactly why he and Kurt breaking up is ultimately the best thing that will ever happen to him.

Yes, Blaine is _definitely_ going to kill Sebastian for this.

\--

"What did you tell them?" Blaine calls out before he can think the better of it as he jogs down the staircase to catch up to Sebastian, cursing those stupidly long legs of his beneath his breath.

Sebastian turns, looking ultimately unconcerned as he flashes a bright smile upon seeing who it is. "Blaine, I gotta say, I kinda miss the sex hair."

Blaine glares as he finally catches up and whacks him hard on the arm before demanding, "Why does everyone seem to be under the impression that Kurt and I broke up?"

"No idea," Sebastian replies brightly, "Did you?"

"No," Blaine says, frowning as he hitches his satchel back onto his shoulder and tries to recover some of his dignity, scowling when some guy he thinks might be in their biology class nods solemnly at him as he passes by. "I mean, I don't know, it's complicated. But that doesn’t tell me how everyone _else_ knows. What, did you send out some kind of memo? Group-text?”

“I made a group on Facebook and invited them all to join,” Sebastian says, glancing down at him with amusement when Blaine only glares back at him. “I was kidding, Blaine. I was talking to Nick about our Chem class last night, he must have passed the message on. ”

“I didn’t want them to know,” Blaine says, fingers curling a little tighter around the strap of his satchel.

Sebastian glances over at him, the amusement on his face dropping away to something thoughtful and a little curious as he says, “I didn’t realize.”

“I know - I just - I don’t like having people talking about me behind my back,” Blaine continues, feeling a little ridiculous when he can’t quite keep his voice steady. 

“I hate to break it to you,” Sebastian says, eyeing him with only the faintest twitch of a smile, “But they already talk about you, Anderson.”

Blaine sighs and rubs at his eyes ruefully, pointedly ignoring the unknown hand that squeezes at his shoulder in passing and glaring half-heartedly when Sebastian doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter.

“This is all your fault,” he accuses. 

“They care,” Sebastian replies, “It’s kind of sweet if you ignore how incredibly creepy it is.”

“Thad _hugged_ me,” Blaine says.

The laughter he gets in response doesn’t even attempt to sound the least bit apologetic.

“Just so you know, I really kind of hate you right now,” Blaine tells him, huffing when Sebastian’s laughter only grows louder, drawing even more attention from the people around him. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

\-- 

The worst part is that, as much as he tries to shake it off as just another fight, Blaine is starting to wonder if maybe he isn’t just kidding himself. He had sent another text yesterday, asking about play rehearsals, but again there has been no response. He is starting to think that holding out in the hopes that Kurt is going to call or text is just putting off the inevitability that they are over. 

It has been four days now - four whole days spent with sympathetic glances from his classmates and the Warblers acting like he might break at any given moment - and Blaine knows that Kurt will be busy, that with opening night coming up on Friday Rachel will have reached critical mass levels of implosion and be in the midsts of the kind of rampage that only Rachel Berry is capable of. 

Still.

It has been four days and there has been nothing from Kurt at all.

Maybe he really is just kidding himself.

\--

“Are you okay?”

Blaine rolls his head back, pausing in the midst of his fifth attempt to repack his satchel so it will just _close_ already and blinking rapidly to try and disperse the sudden and inexplicable rise of tears in his eyes, because there is absolutely no reason he should want to cry over something as stupid as not being able to get his bag to close properly.

“I’m fine,” he insists, swallowing around that horrible constricting feeling in his chest and not quite looking at Nick as he drags his feet back a little so they aren’t blocking so much of the corridor. “I just can’t seem to get everything to fit, which is stupid because it all fit in there earlier and now it won’t close at all and it doesn’t make any sense.”

Nick tilts his head a little, looking like he isn’t entirely sure what he is supposed to say to that before he slides down the wall to sit next to Blaine, reaching out for Blaine’s satchel with open hands and a determinedly neutral voice as he says, “May I?”

Biting down on his lower lip to suppress the strange, inexcusably shaky exhale that tries to make its way up his throat he wordlessly hands over his satchel and watches Nick begin to carefully repack it. Methodically filing books neatly into place next to one another without even looking up.

They work together in silence, Blaine handing over a book whenever Nick holds out his hand for another, until Nick says, “Sometimes when you can’t seem to make things fit it’s because they aren’t supposed to.”

It makes him close his eyes for a second, fingers clutching tighter at the book he is still holding onto until he feels Nick’s knuckles nudge lightly against his. He hands over the book, cracking open his eyes to watch it slide carefully into place next to the others and says, “Maybe it’s just because you haven’t been trying hard enough.”

Nick shrugs a little as he closes the clasp before handing the satchel over, glancing over at him thoughtfully for the first time before he says, “I was actually looking for you, you know.”

Blaine shifts, fingers clutching a little too firmly at the soft leather as he tries to smile and says, “What for?”

“It’s a surprise, actually,” Nick informs him as he carefully pushes himself back to his feet and dusts himself off and levels a mysterious smile in his direction. “Which we’ll have to hurry to get to if we don’t want to miss it and believe me, you aren’t going to want to miss this.”

Nick offers a hand to help haul him up and Blaine takes it, slinging his satchel back over his shoulder and doing his best to smile back as he says, “Lead the way.”

\--

The Warblers don’t even make it to the chorus of “Uptown Girl” before he is biting back a smile, trying desperately not to cry because this is probably the single nicest thing that a friend has ever done for him and every single one of them had played a part in making it happen.

Sebastian tugs him up from the couch by the hand, the grip of his fingers warm and strong as he pulls him into the group, Blaine stepping into the choreography with an ease that shouldn’t feel as natural as it does and for the entire duration of the song, from the increasingly more ridiculous attempts from various Warblers to make him smile, it is easy to remember exactly why Dalton and the Warblers have come to mean so much to him. Why it had been so hard to even consider wanting to leave them when Kurt had asked him to transfer over the summer.

Even now, with things teetering on the edge between him and Kurt, Blaine still isn’t sure that it would have been worth it - having to leave this feeling behind. The Warblers are such a huge part of who he has come to be.

And this - the hug Nick pulls him into once they finish and the hands that clap him on the shoulder as his teammates pull away to depart for their next classes - is a reminder that even though things with Kurt may be hanging in the balance, he will always have the Warblers there to support him.

\--

The tickets have been pinned to his corkboard for almost two whole weeks now, one for him and an extra in case he wanted to bring a friend with him. Kurt had presented them to him right as Blaine was due to leave, smiling slyly across the front porch at him as he informed Blaine that he expected him to be there right on time to watch as he redefined the role of Tony.

Blaine has been trying to finish his Biology homework for the past half an hour but he can’t seem to stop looking at them.

The play opens tomorrow night.

And maybe Kurt won’t even want him there - maybe Blaine should stay well away and throw the tickets in the trash. Maybe he should just accept that if Kurt had wanted to talk to him, he would have called by now.

But maybe Kurt is waiting for him to make the first move.

Blaine knows Kurt. He knows how stubborn he can be when he believes he is in the right. Would it really be so bad for Blaine to bend this one time? To make the apology that needs to be made for the sake of both of them?

And even if Kurt doesn’t accept his apology - at least wouldn’t it be better to know, instead of this torturous wait to discover if they are already over and he just doesn’t know it yet?

With a sigh Blaine drops his pen to the bedspread and flops back onto his mattress, staring up at the ceiling and ignoring the bass he can hear emanating from James’s headphones, even from here. He is pretty sure his decision had been made before he even took a second look at those tickets.

\--

The second ticket goes unused, remaining stuck to the pinboard in his dorm as he packs up to go home the following afternoon, feeling more and more nervous by the moment as he stuffs the textbooks he thinks he might need into his overnight bag and wonders if he should have asked someone to come with him.

Sebastian lives close enough that he would probably be willing to go, though, given the circumstances, Blaine doesn’t think that Kurt would welcome his presence. Nick or Jeff most definitely would go if he asked, though both live in Westerville and would have a long drive home afterwards. They also might try to talk him out of it.

He knows that they are just trying to be good friends to him, that they think that he needs to take some time out and think about whether or not he still wants to be with Kurt. But he also knows that none of them know Kurt the way that he does. Kurt had never really opened up to the other Warblers the way he had with Blaine.

So the second ticket remains stuck to his pinboard as he leaves his dorm, running a hand distractedly over the crest of his hair and grimacing as he wipes away the residue against his thigh. If he makes good time, he should have time to stop at his house and have a shower before he has to leave to make it to McKinley with plenty of time to spare before the opening act.

Well, time for that and one minor detour along the way.

\--

“Those are beautiful,” the woman next to him whispers as he sinks into his seat, cradling the bouquet of orchids carefully in both hands. He had to go to three different florists to find someone who had the ones he wanted and he is just grateful that he hasn’t missed the start of the first act. “Is your girlfriend in the play?”

Blaine lowers his eyes, noting the way the white petals almost seem to glow beneath the low lighting as he says, “My boyfriend actually. He’s playing Tony.”

He tries not to notice the way her eyebrows raise a little, because she recovers quickly enough, her smile just a little too fixed as she says, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love them.”

“I hope so,” Blaine murmurs, more to himself than anything, stroking a finger along the velvety petals, his chest feeling tight as the house lights dim and the bells ring for silence.

He really, really hopes so.

\--

The play is kind of a disaster.

The music is spectacular (Blaine had never doubted that it would be anything but) and there are moments of brilliance, but it is evident from the first time Tony and Maria have to share the stage that something is off. They seem to be more interested in competing against each other than portraying their roles and it is clear that there are two very separate visions for the play clashing on that stage. 

More than anything, it seems obvious that whatever it is that has been fuelling Kurt and Rachel’s feud, it has yet to disperse.

Their voices, at least, sound wonderful together. Soaring through the auditorium and almost enough to cover their evident discomfort around each other as they try to convince the audience of their forbidden love for one another.

It could just be opening night jitters, Blaine thinks, but he hears someone behind him joking that it seems like Maria would rather shoot Tony herself by the time they reach the final act and he promises himself he will never repeat that within hearing range of Kurt _or_ Rachel.

The applause is enthusiastic when the curtain lifts, however, and Blaine tucks his bouquet carefully beneath his arm as he applauds.

There is a moment of panic when he tries to find his way backstage but it eases when Puck catches sight of him and drags him off by the elbow with a mutter of, “Warbler dude, we thought you’d never show up,” before he wanders off muttering about making someone pay up.

Backstage is filled with faces who smile distractedly at him as they dash past, half of them still in costume or stage-makeup. He wants to stop them to ask where to find Kurt, but every time he opens his mouth to call after them it is like they vanish into thin air.

After searching aimlessly around the backstage area for almost ten minutes he almost walks straight into Mike, who stares at him in confusion for a moment before saying, “Hey, are you looking for Kurt?”

Blaine smiles, relief running through him as he says, “I guess I look as lost as I feel then. Puck kind of dragged me back here and left before he could tell me where to find him.”

Mike nods seriously before saying, “Well, you’re almost there. Just keep going straight ahead and it’s the first door on your right. He and Rachel refused to share a dressing room so he ended up back where we’re keeping the costumes.”

“Thank you,” Blaine replies, rocking on his heels a little before he hurries to add, “You were really good, by the way. Kurt never told me you could sing like that.”

It must be the right thing to say because Mike’s face lights up, his smile stretching wide across his lips as he says, “Thank you. You’re coming to the afterparty right? 

Blaine smiles back, shrugging a little before he says, “I guess I’ll see. I should probably go say hi.”

Mike shrugs, hesitating for just a moment before saying, “For the record, I don’t know why Kurt’s mad at you but I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s been really stressed out lately.” 

There is another shrug as Mike lifts a hand in goodbye and continues off on his way with only a small smile of encouragement. Blaine takes a deep breath before he forces himself to start walking again. He can definitely do this.

The room is filled with racks of costumes, hung haphazardly back onto their hangers in an array of colors and fabrics. Blaine brushes his fingers curiously over the ruffled crimson fabric of one of Anita’s dresses, smiling a little to himself as he rounds the corner and finds Kurt sitting in front of a mirror, in the process of carefully removing his stage makeup.

Blaine pauses, fingers curling around the bouquet before he clears his throat and Kurt’s eyes jerk upwards, finding his reflection in the mirror. There is a moment of stunned silence in which Kurt eyes him carefully before he puts down the makeup pad he has been using and turns slowly in his seat to face him.

“I saw you in the audience,” Kurt says after a moment, staring at him with such frightening neutrality that Blaine wonders if he made a mistake coming here. “I didn’t know if you would come or not.”

“I didn’t know if you’d want me here,” Blaine replies, fiddling with the ribbon on the bouquet for a moment before taking a step forward to extend the flowers with a small, shy smile. “I got these for you. You guys brought the house down.”

“No we didn’t,” Kurt replies with a wry twist of his lips, reaching out to take the flowers from him anyway. “But thanks anyway. They’re beautiful.”

“I chose white because they’re supposed to mean I’m sorry.” 

He had Googled it to make sure.

Blaine takes a deep breath before he forges on, “I’m not sure what happened to us last weekend, Kurt, but you have to know that Sebastian is _just_ a friend and that’s all I want him to be. And I know that things have been hard between us recently but I really want to try to make this work.”

Kurt inhales sharply, raising the flowers to his nose before he smiles a little, tilting his head to the side as he gestures a little and says, “Come here.”

Blaine closes the gap between them and it is so easy to just step into Kurt’s space and feel like they are _them_ again, like it is still summer and he could think of absolutely nothing that could ever keep them apart. Kurt tugs him in, resting his arms on Blaine’s shoulders before Blaine pushes forward to kiss him, letting the easy slide of their lips together soothe away the nerves and the fear that still refuses to loosen its grip on his chest even now.

It would be so easy to just keep kissing Kurt, to pretend like nothing else in the world matters except how it feels when they are pressed together like this. But when Kurt finally pulls back, his breathing soft and even against Blaine’s neck it all starts to creep back in.

The breathless question of, “Are your parents home?” startles him, makes him draw back a little so he can search Kurt’s face in confusion.

His forehead furrows a little as he says, “They’re away for the weekend for a work thing, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be here so -”

“ _Blaine_ ,” Kurt admonishes, his smile widening a little hopefully as he says, “I’m saying I want to go back to _your house._ ”

Something uncomfortable skitters down his spine as he realizes what Kurt is actually saying, the reminder of how angry Kurt had been outside of Scandals that night returning to his mind, whispers of _too stupid_ and _I was going to have sex with you_ racing through his thoughts before he determinedly shuts them down. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to have sex with Kurt, but he does want it to happen for the right reasons.

“Kurt, I -”

The way Kurt draws back from him, dragging his arms around his middle makes his heart clench painfully. He knows that what he wants to say is that, I _’m not sure_ we’re _ready for this_ , but the second he locks eyes with Kurt he knows that won’t work. Kurt is determined and Blaine doesn’t know what it is that is driving this, but he knows that if he wants to find out he is going to have to slow things down.

So instead he says, “I think we need to talk about this. I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” and hopes it will do.

\--

They go to the cast and crew afterparty at Breadstix instead. 

Kurt keeps shooting him looks that seem part suspicious, part thoughtful throughout the course of the night.

Blaine feels a little out of place amidst the camaraderie of the group, drifting between people he sort-of knows whenever Kurt gets caught up in conversations and smiling awkwardly as he tries to explain to the Irish exchange student that he actually goes to a different school. 

Mike smiles at him and waves when he sees him, but he is busy talking to his girlfriend and Blaine doesn’t really want to intrude when they look so happy together. 

By the time they leave Kurt seems to have mostly forgotten his disappointment, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips behind the safety of the Navigator before he agrees to coffee tomorrow and a promise that they’ll talk.

As far as Blaine is concerned, it is the best thing he has heard all night.

\--

Blaine stays up half the night after he gets home from the after party, considering what it is that he wants to say, but by the time he walks into the Lima Bean the next morning he isn’t any closer to figuring it out.

He finds Kurt waiting for him at their usual table, two coffees set neatly on the table in front of him and his fingers drumming across his knee.

Blaine drops into the seat opposite him, smiling hesitantly as Kurt nudges one of the coffees across the table towards him and says, "So, you wanted to talk?" 

Kurt’s voice sounds a little stiff, like he isn't entirely convinced that it is what he wants to do.

"Maybe we should go somewhere," Blaine says, running his thumb along over the tab of his coffee and glancing over from the corner of his eye, hoping this won’t be as painfully uncomfortable as he is starting to suspect it will be.

Kurt shrugs a little and nods, looking distinctly uncomfortable as they get up and head outside. They are dawdling along in the general direction of Kurt's car when Blaine clears his throat, cradling his coffee in both hands as he raises his head and determinedly says, "I wanted to talk to you about what happened last week."

"You mean about Sebastian," Kurt replies, rolling his eyes and pointedly staring down at his coffee cup to avoid Blaine’s curious eyes.

"No, I mean, I want to talk about sex," Blaine replies.

Kurt’s fingers clench a little tighter around his coffee cup, knuckles turning white as he sniffs dismissively and says, "I thought you said you weren't ready for that."

"I said that I thought we should talk about it," Blaine says, peering down at his coffee cup. "I mean, if you think you're ready maybe we should figure out what we’d both be comfortable with."

"Can't we just, you know, try?" Kurt asks, shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the knot of his scarf, eyes fixed on the ground as they come to a halt near the trunk of the Navigator.

"I just - when you said that, last week, it kind of came out of nowhere for me," Blaine says softly, leaning back against Kurt's car and eyeing him cautiously through his lashes.

"Don't you ever get the urge to just rip off each others clothes?" Kurt asks, though there is something distinctly odd about the way he completely avoids Blaine's eyes as he says it.

"Well, yeah, but that's what masturbation is for," Blaine replies immediately, taking a sip of his coffee when Kurt looks away, cheeks burning and muttering about it being too warm.

"Look, Kurt," Blaine tilts his head a little to try and better see his face, "Of course I'm attracted to you and I absolutely want to be with you like that, but I want it to feel right and for both of us to be completely comfortable when we do decide to move forward. And, to me, this doesn't feel right."

There is something distinctly defensive in the way Kurt draws himself up, fingers clutching hard at his coffee cup and says, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We've barely even talked recently," Blaine replies a little pointedly, "Which, I know you've been really busy, but I just don’t want either of us to regret it -"

"You don't talk to me at all," Kurt cuts in, eyes rising to meet his pointedly. "I don't even know what's going on with you anymore."

Blaine wants to say that it is because he doesn't know how Kurt will react to him so much as mentioning Dalton but one look at the defensive expression on Kurt's face tells him it isn't the time.

"I know," Blaine says instead, "I've been distant lately and I'm sorry. It's just been hard, trying to adjust again and not getting to see you all the time and I don't want you to feel like I'm crowding you when you have so much going on."

Kurt stares at him speculatively, taking another sip of his coffee before he says, "What does this mean, then?"

"Maybe we could work up to it?" Blaine says.

Kurt tilts his head, frowning a little before he says, "I think I can deal with that."

"Good," Blaine says with a grin.

"Good," Kurt repeats. "Now are you coming to the show tonight? Because I have an extra ticket and I want your full, honest critique."

"It sounds like a plan to me," Blaine replies, smiling wide as he reaches out to squeeze Kurt's hand.

For the first time in a long time Blaine feels like they might just be okay.

-

As it turns out, _working up to it_ feels a lot like Kurt pinning him to his bed in a house that is empty with Kurt’s father out on the campaign trail again and Finn nowhere to be found, half an hour after the curtain call of the Saturday night show.

Their mouths have been sliding messily together for a good fifteen minutes before Kurt rolls on top of him, something fiercely determined in his eyes that Blaine doesn’t know how to begin to interpret. It doesn’t feel like slowing down or talking things out first when Kurt shifts awkwardly over him, rolling his hips down uncertainly in a way that is entirely new to them, and Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat when the stuttered motion drags Kurt’s thigh against his dick.

There is a moment of hesitation, of Kurt staring down at him like he wants to say something, but it feels good, _really_ good, and when his lips do drop open Kurt silences his question with a kiss. 

Instead they rut together, the catch of their clothing between them a reminder of how entirely unplanned this all was, and when the friction gets too much and Blaine comes he buries his face in Kurt’s neck, listening to the stuttered whine in his ear as Kurt follows.

He thinks this should feel intimate. It should feel romantic. It is the first time anyone other than himself has made him come - but when Kurt rolls off of him and Blaine tries to catch his eye, he finds him staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily and looking, it seems, anywhere but at Blaine.

“Kurt?”

Blaine watches Kurt, the flush high in his cheeks and the ruffled state of his hair and the way he won’t quite meet Blaine’s eyes, breathing still unsteady when he says, “I’ve probably ruined these jeans.” 

It is an odd thing to say and an odd thing to be concerned about, considering what they just did. But all Blaine really wants is for Kurt to actually _look_ at him.

“I should put them through the machine now.”

“Okay,” Blaine finds himself replying, his stomach sinking as he watches Kurt sit up and edge off the bed.

Kurt slips out of the room and Blaine sits up, shifting uncomfortably as his jeans stick and cling to his skin and trying to ignore the way his throat tightens as Kurt’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. 

His fingers curl into Kurt’s bed covers beneath him, part of him wanting to call out to Kurt just so he can come back and prove that this isn’t weird - that this wasn’t a mistake.

But the room stays quiet, the hallway beyond it dark and somewhere downstairs Kurt is rinsing out his designer jeans before he puts them through the washing machine. 

It doesn’t feel right at all.

\--

Blaine drives back to school early on Sunday, the sinking, twisted feeling in his stomach refusing to disperse even when he rolls his windows down and turns the volume on his stereo up as high as it will go.

Even the texts he has been getting from Kurt - as close to normal as they have been for weeks now - can’t seem to settle the unease he is feeling. 

He wants to be happy that Kurt feels like the Sunday show could be his best performance yet or that he will be thinking of Blaine when he is onstage, but there is a dark voice in his head that tells him it is a poor consolation prize for sitting alone in Kurt’s room last night, his jeans and underwear sticky and drying against his skin as he waited for Kurt to return.

\--

It is starting to feel like no matter how hard Blaine tries to keep things together, to have them stay the same, everything keeps unravelling on him.

He doesn’t want things to change.

Blaine wants the summer back; that effortless, uncomplicated feeling of elation in his chest when he thinks about Kurt, days where they spent hours talking to each other about anything and everything and nothing was off limits.

He wants last year back; when the Warblers teased him about how dopey he would get over Kurt’s text messages and when Trent didn’t send him quasi-philosophical text-essays that tell him that he seems lost when he is with Kurt. Blaine had thought that he was lost _before_ he met Kurt, that it was Kurt who woke him up.

Now he doesn’t know what to think.

Mostly he just misses his best friend.

Everything is changing on him, every minute of every day, and he can’t seem to do a single thing to stop it. Maybe he needs to stop trying and just let go.

\--

James wakes him up on his way out the door for a run, half an hour before his alarm is due to go off, so Blaine makes it through the showers early and to breakfast before most of the dorm is even awake.

By the time his roommate appears in the still near-empty dining hall and drops into the seat opposite him looking apologetic, the clunk of his bowl and glass on the table jerking Blaine’s head up towards him, Blaine has already decided not to be annoyed. As appealing as sleeping for the rest of his life seems at the moment, at least the early wake-up call meant avoiding the breakfast crowd.

“Sorry for waking you up,” James announces as he sets to peeling a banana and peering cautiously across the table at him like he is expecting to get his head bitten off. Considering Blaine’s mood when he had arrived back at the dorms last night, Blaine thinks it is probably warranted.

Blaine waves off James’s apology with his spoon, swallows the mouthful of cereal he was eating and looks up, smiling apologetically as he says, “It’s fine.”

What is even more surprising is that he actually means it. For all that he is far too interested in Blaine’s love life and has a complete lack of boundaries, Blaine likes rooming with James. He still misses Wes on occasion, the frightening dedication to neatness and knowing that there was one person at Dalton who knew everything he hasn’t been able to tell anyone else, but James has never treated him the slightest bit different to anyone else and that means a lot to him.

“Do you run everyday then?” Blaine asks, when he realizes that James is still eyeing him warily.

“Lacrosse training,” James replies, seemingly relaxing a little as he sinks back into his seat and digs his spoon into his cereal. "So, am I allowed to ask what happened?"

"I sorted things out with Kurt," Blaine replies, taking another bite of his cereal.

"So you broke up," James says, injecting a little more sympathy into his voice as he nods and takes a bite of his cereal. “That’s rough.”

“No,” Blaine replies with a shake of his head. “We’re still together. We just sorted through a few things.”

“Oh.” James’s eyebrows raise as he says, “No offense man, but you don’t seem all that happy about it.”

Blaine stares down at his bowl, finding that it’s not looking so appealing anymore and says, “It’s complicated. Some other stuff happened but I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” James replies, stirring his spoon through his bowl before he adds, “I just mean - for someone who just reunited with their boyfriend, you seem kind of miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine repeats sharply, pushing his breakfast away with a grimace before getting up out of his seat. “Or I would be if people would stop prying into my personal life.”

\--

His day doesn’t get much better after that.

Blaine has gotten used to the Dalton rumor mill by now, but being reminded that seemingly everyone in the school thinks he has just broken up with his boyfriend only serves to make his mood even darker.

All he really wants is some peace and quiet and time to sort things through in his head. He should be happy that Kurt is speaking to him again, that they are finally back on track - but there is a part of him that insists that things have been irrevocably changed between them and he isn't even sure that Kurt knows it. They will never be what they were before Saturday night and Blaine doesn’t think that’s a good thing.

He is also, in part, trying to avoid James. He knows he will eventually have to apologize for being so rude to him this morning, but Blaine is tired of feeling like his life is a personal source of entertainment for his roommate. He likes James, but a selfish part of Blaine has never missed Wes more in his life.

It is why he has gone in search of somewhere to hide out for a while. 

Blaine had discovered within a month of first transferring to Dalton that if he wanted quiet time outside of the dorm, there were really only so many options.

The library is overpopulated at the best of times and, generally, the first place people tended to look when they are searching for someone. The gym may have suited his mood, the opportunity to work out some of the restless frustration is still all too appealing, but it is also the single most likely place on campus for him to run into James.

Which really only leaves him with one option.

"There you are, Anderson."

Or it had.

Blaine sighs and turns his head, tapping defeatedly at one of the piano keys with a clunk as he finds Sebastian standing in the open doorway, looking far too pleased with himself. "What are you still doing here?"

"Looking for you," Sebastian replies as he closes the door behind him and strides inside, dropping down on one of the couches near the piano. "Thad said I could probably find you here."

"Of course he did," Blaine sighs, tapping a finger idly across the piano keys before letting his hands drop back into his lap.

"You play?" Sebastian asks, eyeing the piano curiously.

"A little, I took lessons when I was younger," Blaine replies, tugging his knee up over the piano bench to straddle it so he can face Sebastian. "Why were you looking for me?"

Sebastian eyes him thoughtfully, like he is weighing his words, before he says, "What are you going to do about the Warblers?"

"What do you mean?"

"You told me you were going to Nationals this year," Sebastian says, shifting back on the couch into a more comfortable position. "In the state those guys are in the only place we’re going is to last place at Sectionals. You're their leader, what are you going to do about it?"

"The Warblers don't have a leader," Blaine says tiredly, not wanting to even think about how clear it is that their meetings are going absolutely nowhere.

"I think we both know that isn't true," Sebastian replies. "And they all know it too. You're all just too concerned with your traditions to do what should have been done a long time ago."

Blaine studies his hands, picking at his fingernails uncomfortably before he asks, “Why me?”

The sound of laughter makes him frown, glancing up at Sebastian who doesn’t seem the least bit sorry as he says, “You’re kidding, right?”

He looks back down at his hands and hears the sound of Sebastian shifting around before he catches a glimpse of Sebastian’s shoes from the edge of his vision as he perches on the arm of the couch. 

“Aside from the fact that almost every single one of them is half in love with you?” Sebastian grins at him before leaning forward to catch Blaine’s eye, “You’re a good leader. People like you, you listen to them and you make them _want_ to follow you. And your ass is frankly kind of spectacular.”

Blaine jerks his head up, feeling his cheeks heat up as he finds Sebastian smirking back at him, “I’m pretty sure there’s some crossover there.”

"Why are you telling me this?" Blaine asks, holding Sebastian’s stare determinedly.

"I like to win," Sebastian replies, leaning forward a little and tilting his head to better regard him. "And I think that you do too, don't you, Blaine?"

"Of course I want to win," Blaine says, narrowing his eyes.

The corner of Sebastian's lip twitches as he says, "Then maybe you should do something about it."

\--

By now Warbler practices should be spent working on competition songs and bringing their new members into the group, deciding on how to allocate solos and starting to build up new choreography. Instead they have spent the majority of every meeting, every week since the beginning of term, debating the exact same topic: who should replace Wes on the council. 

After all this time, they are no closer to answering that question and Blaine is so tired of it all.

Sebastian’s words had really just been the tipping point and Blaine is starting to think that if there is no stopping the way things are changing, maybe he should be the one making those changes.

He wants to win. He wants to pull them together into the team that he knows they can be. He wants to feel like maybe there is one area of his life that isn’t completely spiralling out of his control. He wants Kurt's jibes at the beginning of the term about preparing to lose to feel less like sound advice.

"Warblers -"

"That is an outrage!"

"Warblers -"

"I will not stand for this!"

" _Enough!_ "

The ensuing quiet is almost eerie, Blaine taking a deep breath when he realizes they're all watching him expectantly. He knows this isn't going to go down well. "This isn't working."

There is a sharp inhale from his left and he sees Trent opening his mouth to object so he pushes on. "We've spent weeks trying to agree upon who to elect to the council and we are no closer to a decision now than we were at the start of semester. Sectionals will be here before we know it and I think it might be time for us to consider a change."

"The Warblers council has been elected by its members since the group first assembled in -"

"I don't mean to disband the tradition," Blaine interrupts Thad hastily as he launches into the all too familiar spiel, "I want to upgrade it. We need someone to lead us this year, to push us to work harder than we ever have before and I think -"

Blaine thinks that neither Thad nor David are the ones to do it. He thinks that he isn't sure there is a panel of three people in this room capable of taking control of the Warblers when they are like this. He thinks that if they want to compete and win against the New Directions or Vocal Adrenaline they are going to have to work so far outside their comfort zones that even he is uncertain they will be able to get there. He thinks that maybe -

"- I think that this year we need to elect a team captain."

It goes down about as well as he expected it would.

"The Warblers have been run by a council of upperclassmen since their inception," Thad interrupts loudly, "You would have us flout the proud traditions of our forebears?"

"The council wouldn't be disbanded," Blaine replies hurriedly. "They would still decide the setlists and the soloists and maintain all of their current administrative duties to ensure that the Warblers continue to run smoothly. The captain would serve as a leader - someone who can be a liaison between the members and the council if they have any concerns, but also push us to be better and to work harder."

Blaine chances a look around the room, his eyes drifting over face after face of indecisive and troubled expressions before he finds himself staring across the room at Sebastian, who raises his eyebrows just slightly in Blaine’s direction before he says, "I agree with Blaine."

Sebastian's voice is calm, almost bored, and utterly out of place amidst the fervid mutterings of the rest of the Warblers. Blaine thinks this might actually be the first time Sebastian has lent his voice to any of the discussions held during a Warbler meeting.

But around the room the other Warblers have stopped muttering to each other and have turned to listen to Sebastian. The handful of guys that had auditioned with Sebastian foremost among them. The sight is a little unnerving.

"You've wasted weeks trying to re-elect your council when it clearly doesn't work, if it did you'd be sitting here with a Nationals trophy instead of a Sectionals tie and a second place finish at Regionals," Sebastian is staring directly across the room at him as he speaks. 

Blaine gets the feeling that Sebastian has been waiting for this.

"Your traditions have made your performances boring, predictable and lazy," Sebastian's eyes flicker around the room distastefully. "If we want to win, we have to change our approach. Isn't that what you were trying to say, Blaine?"

There is something amused and challenging in Sebastian's smile as he turns back to look at Blaine.

"Right," Blaine replies uneasily, frowning a little at Sebastian's answering tip of his head.

"I think it's a great idea," Nick pipes up suddenly and Blaine smiles gratefully in his direction. "If we want to win this year we need to try something new."

"Me too," Jeff adds with a shrug. "There's no harm in trying."

Suddenly there are a flood of other voices lending their support and when he glances over to the table where the council sits, even Thad and David look thoughtful. 

It is just starting to look like they might have reached an agreement when Sebastian speaks up again, meeting Blaine's eyes for just a moment as he says, "It seems like an awful lot of pressure to put on just one person though, doesn't it?"

Blaine isn't sure where he is going with this, but he narrows his eyes a little as David asks, "What are you suggesting?"

Sebastian's answering smile is brilliant. "Co-captains."

Over the noises of approval and interest Sebastian catches Blaine's eye and winks, his lips twisted in an amused smile.

Blaine is starting to get the feeling he might be a little out of his depth.

\--

“What was _that?_ ” Blaine asks, trying not to sound quite as surprised (worried, annoyed) as he feels as he follows Sebastian out of the practice room.

“The Warblers are all about teamwork, right? Sharing the load,” Sebastian replies nonchalantly, glancing down at his watch before he glances over at Blaine with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. “Wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours getting frown lines, would we, Anderson?”

\--

If there is one thing that Blaine quickly learns about Sebastian Smythe over the next few weeks it is that he is _very_ good at getting what he wants.

Within just under two months of arriving at Dalton he has already made first line on the lacrosse team and earned himself a place in the Warblers. And now it is clear that he has higher ambitions in mind. 

From the moment he had mentioned co-captains it had been clear what Sebastian had been planning. It all comes to a head when suggestions for who should be elected to the positions comes up and there are two unanimous (and entirely unsurprising) decisions - Blaine and Sebastian himself.

He doesn't know how Sebastian managed to accomplish it, after such a brief amount of time with the Warblers, but Blaine is starting to think that it might actually work out for them.

For all that he is kind of blunt, people seem to listen to what Sebastian has to say and whatever his intentions might be, it is clear that he really does want to win.

\--

From what Blaine has been able to glean from his conversations with Kurt, things at McKinley still aren't going so well. There are two glee clubs signed up to compete at Sectionals from McKinley and Kurt has been bemoaning his speech-in-progress for the student president debates over the phone to Blaine for the past week or so, complete with sniping about Rachel whenever he starts to get frustrated.

On top of that, things have gotten ugly with the local elections as well. He hasn't seen the ad himself, but Kurt tells him that his dad is furious and that Coach Sylvester doesn’t show any signs of stopping.

With the time and the space between them it gets easier to push aside the part of him that is still simmering quietly over what had happened that weekend. He makes excuses not to go home on the weekend or the one after, and while he doesn’t think he will be able to _forget_ that feeling, falling back into the familiar patterns of their conversation makes it easier to talk to Kurt and not feel a sinking sensation in his stomach. 

\--

Blaine is kind of surprised at how smoothly he and Sebastian work together.

He didn’t know what to expect the first time he walks into a Warbler meeting as an official co-captain, he is still a little wary of Sebastian’s motives behind this all and as he has yet to discover what Sebastian is hoping to accomplish or how he hopes to achieve it, he thinks that is at least warranted. Blaine has been debating whether he should approach Sebastian to talk since the results of the official vote were tallied, but before he can decide what he would say the first meeting has been and gone.

The Warblers actually seem to listen to Sebastian. Even Trent, whose natural inclination is to protest any kind of change, folds quickly to that strange influence Sebastian seems to exude when he wants something.

It probably should be weird, to see how easily the Warblers welcome Sebastian into a leadership role, but it also seems to be working for them. Blaine likes the singular focus that Sebastian applies to each task at hand - he likes the way that Sebastian can silence a room without even raising his voice. 

And a small, selfish part of Blaine thinks that even more than any of those things, he likes that when he talks, Sebastian listens. That his opinions feel valued and respected and like they have worth.

With their combined efforts they manage to lock down a varied selection of possible songs for their Sectionals setlist with the council within a week. Within three weeks they have managed to come up with working arrangements for four of the most likely potential choices. The change in efficiency is almost unbelievable.

After a few discussions they agree to split their focus in different areas; Sebastian offers to take control of their choreography and Blaine takes responsibility for their vocals. Blaine doesn’t mention the New Directions booty camp, but it sticks in his mind as he lends his voice in agreement when Sebastian informs the other Warblers that just because they are an a cappella choir it doesn’t mean they can get away with just swaying in formation.

It almost seems too good to be true.

Which is probably why Blaine isn't really all that surprised when he walks into the gym they had managed to beg the use of from the coach for dance rehearsal to discover the group already assembled and in the midst of what looks like a vote.

"What's going on?" Blaine asks cautiously, eyeing the slightly sheepish faces of his friends as their hands slink back to their sides.

"There you are, Blaine," Sebastian says brightly, turning away from the front of the room to look at him. "I wanted to talk to you actually. If you guys wanted to run through the choreography we were practicing yesterday."

Blaine frowns a little as he lets Sebastian guide him back out through the doors of the gym, wondering what exactly is going on when he pauses just outside of the doors.

"Some of the guys are worried," Sebastian announces without preamble, eyeing Blaine evenly as he leans against the doorframe.

"Worried about what?" Blaine asks frowning a little as his arms wrap around his chest, fingers curling beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt.

"Your boyfriend," Sebastian replies bluntly. "Or rather, his influence over you."

"I don't think I get what you're trying to say," Blaine says, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. 

"Come on, Blaine, it’s nothing personal," Sebastian says lightly, "They’re working really hard and they're worried you might pass along information about us by accident that could affect our chances."

"I would never," Blaine says immediately, eyes wide with surprise. "Why would they think that?"

"He is our competition, and after last year..." Sebastian trails off, shrugging a little.

“Kurt competed _with_ us last year,” Blaine replies, stunned by the realization that his friends had clearly felt uncomfortable enough that they had gone to _Sebastian_ to talk about this.

“And then he competed with _them_ at Nationals after you lost and tried to get you to transfer,” Sebastian says, reaching out to plant a hand lightly on Blaine’s shoulder. “You can’t blame them for being worried, Blaine.”

"The New Directions wouldn't cheat," Blaine insists, shaking his head determinedly.

"I heard they sent a prospective new member to a crack house last year,” Sebastian says, leaning in just a little with a strange expression on his face as he says, “Maybe you don't know them as well as you think you do."

Blaine stares back at him before he drops his eyes, biting down on his lip uncertainly and asks, “What do you think I should do?”

"I think they just need assuring that you aren’t talking to him about the Warblers,” Sebastian replies. “Just to keep them happy.”

He sighs as his hands drop back to his sides, glancing up to look Sebastian in the eye as he says, "I guess I'll talk to the guys then."

"Great," Sebastian announces, squeezing once at his shoulder before he steps back. "Well, let's get on with this shall we?"

"Great," Blaine echoes, letting Sebastian shepherd him through the door with a hand pressed between his shoulders and wondering exactly when Co-Captains had started to feel more like the Captain and his Assistant.

\--

“How are things on your end?” Kurt asks him that night, between picking through the closing statement of his debate speech and gushing over the latest Vogue cover.

He remembers the visible relief on the Warblers faces as he had told them he would not be discussing the Warblers with _anyone_ outside of the Warblers themselves, wondering how long they had been worried about that, and his voice is quiet when he answers, “Everything’s fine.”

\--

 

One-two. Three-four.

Blaine counts the beats in his head, watching the group in front of him hit every mark in almost perfect unison as he leans forward, elbows braced against his knees and eyes intent. The stamp of their feet against the gym floor is echoing off the walls, overshadowing the bass of the backing track Sebastian has been working with.

Dance rehearsals have been gruelling with Sebastian at the helm. They have run through the number five times so far, Sebastian stopping them to correct minor problems or point out what isn’t working while Blaine waits. They move back and forth, weaving in and out of formation according to the sections responsible for building each part of the song.

It is a demanding piece of choreography for them, complicated in a way the Warblers have never attempted for a competition performance, and they have yet to attempt it with the vocals, let alone in conjunction with their other two numbers.

Blaine is starting to wonder if maybe they aren’t pushing too hard.

The backing track fades out and Blaine watches them, which ones are breathing hard and miserable, which ones are eyeing Sebastian with a hint of resentment or annoyance in their eyes. There are more than he had expected, but nobody is complaining.

Out loud anyway.

“Alright, Anderson, now it’s your turn,” Sebastian calls out, emerging from behind the group to head towards him. 

Sebastian looks neither out of breath nor particularly flustered as he reaches where Blaine is perched on the floor of the gym and reaches out a hand to pull him up. 

“This is going to be the fun part,” Sebastian assures him as Blaine lets himself be pulled to his position in the group, “Jeff, get the stereo would you?”

Blaine hears Jeff mutter something uncomplimentary beneath his breath as he moves to do it, biting back the smile when Sebastian narrows his eyes and plants his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, directing him back another few steps and to the side, front and center of the group.

And that is the other problem. The touching, that is.

Sebastian pushes and grabs and pulls people around, guiding them into place with his hands as he works and it’s not like it is a big deal, but Blaine sometimes feels like it is different when Sebastian touches _him_. Like maybe he lingers a little longer than he should or moves closer than is exactly necessary as he does so. 

It doesn’t make him uncomfortable, per say, it just feels different - and Blaine really doesn’t know what he should be making of that. Sebastian knows he is with Kurt.

“Come on Blaine, you can do better than that,” Sebastian calls out, grinning when Blaine meets his eyes as the beat picks up again and Blaine pulls a face in return as he pushes himself to his next mark.

Whatever it is that Sebastian is hoping to accomplish, he hopes it doesn’t hurt the Warblers chances. 

-

Blaine is so exhausted by the time that Kurt calls that it is all he can do to lie on his bed and make soft noises of agreement as Kurt explains that he is rewriting his entire speech for the debate tomorrow around the subject of dodgeball.

He is pretty sure he must have missed something there and he thinks Kurt is saying something about the Irish kid, but when he wakes up two hours later to his phone digging into his cheek and James jabbing him in the side with his lacrosse stick, saying that he had better hurry if he wants to make it to the Dining Hall before it closes, he figures it can’t have been that important.

-

_What if they throw their lunch at me?_

Blaine blinks down at the text, the latest in the series of increasingly more nervous updates he has gotten over the course of the day and types back, _I thought they were holding the debate in the gym?_

When he looks up Nick is watching him from across the table, eyebrows raised as he twirls spaghetti around his fork and Blaine pockets his phone, shrugging as he says, “Kurt has the student president debate today.”

“You guys are okay then?” Nick asks, leaning a little further across the table so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

Further down the table most of the other Warblers are engaged in an intense discussion that Blaine can’t seem to understand a single word of and a few tables over he can see Sebastian sitting with the lacrosse team, leaning over to talk to James.

“I think so,” Blaine replies, frowning down at his own half-eaten lunch before grabbing for his bottle of water. “Why do you ask?”

Jeff has turned around in his seat towards them as Blaine was speaking and Nick has an odd expression on his face as he says, “You just seem to be spending a lot of time with Sebastian lately.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose a little, glancing quickly over to where Sebastian is seated and listening to whatever James is talking about before back to them. “It’s kind of a part of the job,” he points out, raising an eyebrow a little as he takes a sip of his water before placing it carefully back on the table in front of him.

“People are talking, is all I’m saying,” Nick replies.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and Blaine pulls it out, frowning over at Nick as he opens the message and finds, _I didn’t even think of that. What if they throw dodgeballs at me instead?_

He types back a quick, _Nobody’s going to throw dodgeballs at you._ He hopes, at least. From what he has heard about McKinley he wouldn’t really be surprised. Tacking on, _You’ll be amazing. They’re gonna love you,_ before he presses send and lifts his eyes back to Nick to ask, “So I’m not allowed to be friends with him?”

Nick gives him a look as he sinks back into his seat and says, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Blaine sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and wondering when he started getting so defensive about this.

“What Nick’s trying to say is that it’s nice to see you actually happy again,” Jeff interjects, stabbing his fork in Blaine’s general direction and beaming as he adds. “And that it doesn’t matter to us who might be responsible for that.”

“Thank you,” Blaine replies, tilting his head a little and frowning as he adds, “I think.”

“You’re welcome,” Jeff says, punching Nick in the arm before turning back to the other conversation.

Nick’s expression is still kind of strange, his eyes thoughtful as he smiles at Blaine before returning his attention to his lunch and Blaine doesn’t know what prompts him to glance back in the direction of the lacrosse team, but when he finds Sebastian staring back at him he doesn’t look away. Instead he smiles a little, tilts his head when Sebastian quirks his eyebrows at him and turns back to his lunch, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his smile from growing wider.

If the price he has to pay for feeling good about himself is a few silly rumors, he thinks he can deal with that.

\--

There is a text that night instead of a phone call, it reads in it’s entirety; _Rachel pulled out of the elections. We’re going out for pre-emptive celebrations at Breadstix. Call you tomorrow xoxo_

\--

With Sectionals approaching, Blaine is so busy it feels like he can hardly keep up with everything that is happening.

More and more homework is being piled onto them with each passing week and with the extra rehearsals the Warblers had all pledged to, more often than not by the time Kurt calls at night he finds himself sleepily nodding along to their conversations. He knows that the local elections have gotten ugly and Kurt’s dad has been taking some heat, but when Kurt tells him about Santana it seems too horrible to be true.

Blaine may not know her very well, but he remembers her stepping in last year when Karofsky had confronted him and Kurt in that hallway and he wishes there was something he could do. He can’t imagine how terrifying it must be to be outed in such a public way, his own coming out had been hard enough without having it foisted on him. 

If Kurt has noticed how distracted he has been, he doesn’t comment, but Blaine can’t help but feel like they have been talking around each other for weeks.

It is probably why he is so confused when his phone starts buzzing in his pocket as he is on his way to his English class. Jeff is busy complaining about how much his muscles hurt (in what Blaine suspects is an attempt to get Blaine to call off their rehearsal that afternoon) when it starts. It keeps on buzzing as he juggles the textbooks that wouldn’t fit into his satchel into his other hand and reaches for it, surprised that anyone would be calling him in the middle of the day.

He doesn’t know what to think as he sees Kurt’s name flashing up on the screen, his thumb hitting the answer call button automatically as he raises his phone to his ear and is hit by a near hysterical, “Blaine, I don’t know what to do.”

Blaine hasn’t heard Kurt sound so upset since he first met him. It makes him stop dead in the hall, waving Jeff off as he turns and winds his way through the busy corridors to get to somewhere quiet.

“What happened?” he asks, panic building in his chest, “Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

There is a shuddery breath through the line and Blaine wonders where he is, his heart thumping loudly as he pushes out the doors into the courtyard, shivering a little at the change in temperature and wishing he had his coat or a scarf as Kurt tries to steady his voice. It’s still trembling a little when he says, “They think I did it, they’re going to expel me.”

“Did what?” Blaine replies, sinking down on the edge of a bench and dropping his textbooks at his side, “Why would you get expelled?”

“They think I tried to stuff the ballot for the election,” Kurt replies miserably, his voice hitching as he says, “They’re going to expel me and I lost the election anyway and now I’m never going to get into NYADA or any other school because they’ll all think I’m a cheater.”

“Kurt, I’m so sorry,” Blaine says, curling his free arm around himself as he huddles against the cold. “There has to be a way to prove you didn’t do it.”

“Nobody believes me, Blaine,” Kurt replies, “They all think I did it.”

“What can I do?” Blaine asks, fingers curling tight around the strap of his satchel, twisting the leather in a way that would make Kurt cringe if he could see it. “If I leave now I can be there when you finish school - I’m sure my roommate will cover for me if I ask him.”

There is a damp snuffling noise from the other end of the line as Kurt tries to calm his breathing before he says, “No, Blaine, you’ll miss your classes. I shouldn’t have called you -”

“I don’t care,” Blaine assures him, shifting on his seat, “It’ll be fine, they might get a little bit mad but -”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Kurt cuts him off hurriedly, his voice sounding strained, like he is doing his absolute best to try and sound normal, and it is kind of terrifying for Blaine to realize he can hear the exact moment that Kurt starts to shut him out. “I’ll just, I’ll call you tonight okay?”

“We’ll think of something,” Blaine assures him, staring down at his shoes as Kurt makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement.

The silence feels strained, painful before Kurt says, “I have to go. You should get to your class. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Blaine tries to joke, his fingers twisting tighter into the strap of his satchel and the dialtone cuts him off before he even gets past, “I l -”

\--

Blaine has been on edge all day, thinking about what he could possibly say, by the time Kurt calls him that night.

He doesn’t really know what to expect as Kurt informs him that Rachel had confessed to stuffing the ballot boxes for him and that she has been suspended from school, but Kurt had still lost the election. It is related with such bitter disappointment that Blaine doesn’t know what to say to make it better, instead he listens to Kurt detail the ways in which this means his dream is over with increasing despair until he can’t take it anymore.

“Hey, no,” he cuts in firmly, “This doesn’t mean anything. We’re going to figure it out alright? Don’t give up hope.”

There is a sharp inhale from the other side of the line before Kurt replies, “That’s easy to say when you have an extra-curricular list that’s miles long, Blaine.”

It stings, Blaine’s fingers twisting into the bedcovers as he stares hard at the wall above James’s bed, biting down on his lip and waiting as Kurt sighs through the phone, the frustration evident in his voice as he says, “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just - this is a really big deal and nothing’s working out the way it should.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize,” Blaine replies after a moment, staring down at his hands. “I get it.”

There is another strained silence, like Kurt is trying to figure out what to say before he sighs again and says, “I should probably go. Numbers are looking good for my dad to win the election and he wanted to talk to us all about it. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees, “Tomorrow.”

\--

They don’t talk about it again. 

When Kurt calls the next day he spends the entire time telling Blaine how excited and nervous his dad is about winning the election, even going so far as to hand the phone over so that Blaine can congratulate Burt himself.

It is almost surreal, the change in mood, and Blaine doesn’t entirely believe it but he lets it go and instead he lets himself be distracted by making sure that Kurt knows the details for where their Sectionals competition is going to be held and making plans for where to meet him after the show. It is going to be a tight schedule, but Kurt promises he will be there before the Warblers bus has to depart afterwards, win or lose.

There is something exciting about Kurt knowing absolutely nothing about what the Warblers have been working on, about the opportunity to surprise him with how hard they have worked.

And a part of him really just wants to be able to see Kurt in the lobby afterwards and say, “So, who should be preparing to lose again?”

\--

Blaine has never been more certain of the Warblers chances than he is now.

They have worked harder than ever before over the past few months, pushed themselves beyond limits that Blaine had thought they were incapable of reaching, and it might be cocky or overconfident, but Blaine is certain that they are going to surprise everyone tonight.

He has never really been the type to get nervous before a performance and stage fright is something he has never had to contend with (a product, he thinks, of more childhood performances with Cooper than he could ever hope to count) but Blaine finds himself pacing the green room as the various sections group together to warm up, their harmonies bouncing back at him off the walls. 

A relic of those early memories of singing Duran Duran to his neighbours with Cooper at his side, groaning whenever he missed a step, is the preparation; a long established routine of pushing all negative thoughts out of his mind prior to a performance, tuning everything but the warm glowing reminder of how good they’re going to be out. He focuses on how fantastically their final rehearsal had gone yesterday. 

Blaine is itching to get out on that stage to try and see if he can catch a glimpse of Kurt in the audience.

It might be a little ridiculous, to be so excited about actually having someone out in that audience who came just to see him, but it helps build the anticipation. He wants to show Kurt exactly why the Warblers aren’t going to be preparing themselves for defeat anytime soon. Why he has been falling asleep on the phone lately.

He wants _someone_ to see how hard they have been working all year.

Blaine is on his fifth circuit of the room, his arms swinging loose at his sides when a hand catches at his arm, tugging him back a step. He follows the hand back to its source, smiling back at Sebastian’s amused expression as he asks, “Nervous, Anderson?”

“Excited,” Blaine corrects him, the usual rush of anticipation that he always feels before he walks onto a stage already starting to pulse through him. “We have absolutely nothing to be nervous about. We’ve got this.”

Sebastian cocks an eyebrow, dropping his hand back to his side and laughing before he tilts his head a little and says, “Maybe you should go share a little of that optimism with the one who looks like he’s ten seconds from passing out.”

Blaine turns his head, following Sebastian’s nod to where Nick is perched on the edge of a sofa alone, chewing his lower lip and looking decidedly pale as he stares down at his hands. 

“It’s his first competition solo, he’s allowed to be nervous,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes when Sebastian just quirks an eyebrow at him, apparently unmoved, before scoffing, “Jerk.”

Sebastian just laughs, Blaine nudging his arm on the way past as he makes his way over to Nick and drops down on the sofa beside him. “You okay?”

Nick’s head jerks around, his eyes wide and his smile frozen as he says, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be totally fine.”

“Of course you will,” Blaine replies lightly. “You worked hard for this. The council wouldn’t have chosen you if they didn’t think you could handle it.”

The smile on Nick’s face slackens into something a little more natural and he shoots a knowing look in Blaine’s direction before he asks, “How do you do it? How can you not be freaking out about this? What if I go out there and I forget the lyrics or I trip over or -”

“You won’t,” Blaine says. “You could do that OneRepublic song in your sleep by now. In fact, I’m pretty sure all of us could.”

“You guys _did_ get a little overzealous with the rehearsals,” Nick agrees, rubbing at his face and sighing loudly before he glances over at Blaine hesitantly. “What if I mess up? Everyone’s worked so hard already.”

“You aren’t going to mess up,” Blaine assures him, “Do you want to know how I know?”

Nick eyes him warily, turning a little on his perch to better see him as he asks, “How?”

“Because I have it on good authority that the Warblers are going to Nationals this year,” Blaine tells him, extending a fist in offering. “And we need you to help get us there.”

Nick looks down at his fist, rolling his eyes a little before he raises his own to knock against it, a small smile on his face as he says, “Nationals huh?”

Blaine beams, eyes crinkling at the corners as he agrees, “Nationals.”

\--

Performing on stage in front of a crowd is a rush like nothing else Blaine has ever experienced.

Later he will remember the heat of the stage lights, sweat rolling down the back of his neck and dampening his hair. Feeling too hot beneath the layers of blazer and shirt and tie but not caring because he knows, god he _knows_ , halfway through listening to Nick absolutely slay their first song, that this is their competition to win. He’ll remember seeing the vague blur of faces in front of him and the absolute euphoria of his voice projecting to the back of the auditorium, of every infectiously perfect beat and the Warblers voices rising around him in a wall of brilliant sound.

He will remember the way the audience surges to their feet to cheer them on as they move into the final number and he emerges in the center - how he searched those faces for Kurt but had thought nothing of it when he couldn’t find him. He’ll remember the burn in his lungs when they finally finish, the way his chest heaves with exertion but how it was worth it for every sharp, perfectly hit beat and the complete elation at the sound of applause and feeling honestly, truly, happy and exhausted in a way that is uncomplicated and all consuming.

There will be the dead space between performing and the results, the buzz of adrenaline wiping those hazy moments from his memory until he is standing on stage again, packed in tight at the front of the group between Sebastian and Nick and waiting. Nick’s fingers digging into his shoulder and feeling every sharp breath he takes where his side is pressed into Blaine’s arm.

He will remember Sebastian standing collected and calm, his face a passive slate as he waits while Nick tremors against Blaine’s other side with the announcement of third place and the almost painful squeeze of his fingers in the pause before the announcement of the winner is made.

The actual winning moment will become an echo in his mind, disappearing beneath Nick launching himself at Blaine in a hug that feels more like a chokehold and the rest of the Warblers descending. He’ll remember his face being mashed into Sebastian’s chest and the familiar smell of his cologne, thick in his nostrils as hands thump at his back and the feeling of absolute belonging and acceptance he has only ever experienced within the circle of this group.

He doesn’t remember breaking free to shake hands with the director of Aural Intensity or much of the trip offstage.

He doesn’t remember anything, really, until he grabs his phone to text Kurt to meet them in the lobby and the sudden grinding halt as he stares down at the message waiting for him. _Something came up, I can’t make it. Text me the results!_

For a moment it is like the breath has been sucked right out of his chest and he is gasping for it, because he knows it isn’t fair to be disappointed. That even though the election is over now, Kurt is still busy. That the New Directions are preparing for their own Sectionals and Kurt has been in panic mode trying to find ways to pad his NYADA application after losing to Brittany in the student elections.

But he also remembers looking out into that audience and thinking that for the first time since he became a Warbler there was someone out there who came specifically to see him, singing to an unseen face because he trusted that Kurt would be there. 

“Come on, Blaine, we’re going to miss the bus,” Jeff laughs, throwing an arm around his shoulder and Blaine jerks his head up.

Jeff must see something in his face because his smile slips a little, his eyes wide as he asks, “Hey - what happened?”

“Nothing,” Blaine insists after a moment, sliding his phone back into his pocket and fixing a smile back to his face determinedly. “Everything’s fine.”

It doesn’t matter. He’ll text Kurt later to tell him they won.

“You sure?” Jeff asks, frowning as he turns towards him, “You don’t seem fine.”

“Positive,” Blaine replies. “We should go catch that bus, right? After all that dancing I am definitely not walking home.”

And he thinks he could even believe it.

After all, it’s not like he is any stranger to disappointment.

\--

Blaine is exhausted by the time he breaks away from the other Warblers who are already deeply involved in the planning of victory celebrations at Nick’s house on the weekend, and finally returns to his dorm. He sheds his uniform for comfort clothes before dropping back on his bed, phone in hand.

The sting of disappointment has yet to fade and he doesn’t want Kurt to think he is upset so he sits and stares at the blank screen of his phone, wondering if it will seem strange if he just doesn’t call.

With a sigh he takes a deep breath and unlocks the screen, scrolling down to Kurt’s number and psyching himself up before he presses call. 

Kurt picks up after a few rings, still in conversation with what sounds like Rachel on the other side of the line before he says, “Hey, I was starting to think I’d never hear from you.”

“Hey,” Blaine replies, frowning when it comes out sounding flat to his own ear before forging through. “I only just got back.”

“You sound weird,” Kurt says, his voice echoing a little on the line and Blaine shifts back, squishing his eyes closed determinedly because he can hear someone talking in the background of Kurt’s line. “What happened? Oh my god, you lost didn’t you? I didn’t think -”

Blaine tenses, disappointment burning as he cuts in, “No, we won. I’m not - I’m just really tired.”

There is silence on Kurt’s end, more background chatter that he can’t make out before Kurt says, “Okay, why do I feel like you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad,” Blaine says, twisting his fingers into the hem of his t-shirt and blinking rapidly up at the ceiling when he feels tears starting to gather at the corners of his eyes and he point blank refuses to be upset about this. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because you sound mad,” Kurt replies dryly and the sound of background voices is fading away. “Did something happen? Was it Sebastian because -”

“Nothing happened,” Blaine cuts him off, not wanting to know what Kurt thinks Sebastian might have done to upset him. “Like I said, I’m just really tired and I was about to go to sleep, so.”

“Well, congratulations,” Kurt says, sounding entirely unconvinced. “I’m sure whatever mystery medley of Katy Perry showstoppers you sang was amazing, Blaine. You’ll have to tell me about it this weekend.”

“Yeah.” Blaine swallows back the uncomfortable lump that is rising in this throat before adding, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Kurt agrees, sounding uncertain.

Blaine hangs up when he feels the first spill of warmth down his cheek, wiping it angrily away as he drops his phone down on the bedside cabinet and climbs in beneath his covers before burying his head beneath his pillow.

He pretends to be asleep when James shows up half an hour later but in spite of how tired he is it isn’t until long after James’s snores have filled the room that he finally drifts off.

\--

“The party’s at my house, Saturday night, be there anytime after seven o’clock,” Nick informs Blaine as he falls into step next to him.

It is clear from the brilliant smile on his face that he is still riding the high of their victory with absolutely no sign of stopping.

“No excuses. Attendance is mandatory,” he continues, holding up a hand in warning and apparently entirely oblivious to the bemused expression on Blaine's face until he pauses, a hand clamping down on Blaine's shoulder as he adds, “Hey, you can even invite Kurt along if you want. As like, a good faith and good luck thing.”

The sheer force of Nick's enthusiasm draws a slow smile to Blaine's face, the disappointment that had clouded his morning being pushed determinedly to the back of his mind with the reminder that the Warblers deserve this celebration, that they have earned it with the long hours of hard work and that Blaine is not going to be the one to bring them down over something so petty. “Of course I'm coming,” Blaine replies with mock indignation, smile growing when Nick rolls his eyes, “And I'll ask Kurt, but he might already have plans.”

“Good,” Nick replies, knocking his fist into Blaine's shoulder, his grin looking like it is about to split his face in half, “You make sure to tell him what he’ll be missing out on if he doesn’t come. Because this party is going to go down in Warbler history as the best party Dalton's ever seen.”

“Right,” Blaine laughs back, his smile coming back a little easier as he cluches at his satchel, “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Warbler history,” Nick repeats for emphasis eyeing Blaine pointedly until he laughs and throws up his hands.

“Alright, alright I get it,” Blaine replies, “I’ll ask him.”

“Good,” Nick repeats, looking far more self-satisfied than Blaine thinks the situation really warrants.

\--

“Are you going to Nick’s party tomorrow?” Blaine asks as they make half-hearted attempts to stretch on the side of the court, trying not to sound too interested in the answer as he sneaks a glance in Sebastian’s direction.

“And miss seeing the tribe of preppy straight guys get drunk?” Sebastian gasps, eyebrows quirked upwards as he catches Blaine eyes, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

There is something a little too amused in Sebastian’s smile as he turns towards Blaine, giving up on the pretense of stretching to ask, “What about you, Anderson, are you planning on gracing this trainwreck with your presence?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, balancing carefully on one foot as he curls a hand around his ankle and holds it, “I was informed that attendance is compulsory.”

“Ah,” Sebastian replies, tipping his head a little to the side and just watching, blatantly enough that Blaine can feel his cheeks starting to warm. “I guess there is an upside then.”

“Nick told me to invite Kurt,” Blaine continues, not entirely sure why he is saying it as he switches legs, not quite looking in Sebastian's direction.

“Why, does he need a designated driver?” Sebastian retorts and Blaine whips his head around to scowl at him. “Just kidding, Killer, don't get worked up about it. I'm just surprised he'd want to celebrate a win he wasn't even there to see.”

“Kurt was a Warbler as well,” Blaine replies for lack of an answer, ignoring the sharp sting of the reminder as he sets his jaw and releases his ankle. “I just wanted to let you know he might be there. In case it would be weird, what with him being our competition.”

Sebastian hums beneath his breath, sounding far too amused for his own good as he says, “Sure, Anderson, _that’s_ the reason you’re telling me.”

He can feel the heat rise in his cheeks, burning with the implication as he looks away, biting down on his lower lip and ignores the huff of laughter from beside him.

“Look, Blaine, if he was dumb enough to pass up the opportunity to scope out the competition it’s his problem,” Sebastian continues. “Why should I care if your boyfriend wants to come to a party?”

“Great,” Blaine says, not entirely sure why that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous about the prospect of asking Kurt to spend time with the Warblers and instead watching intently as their coach lines up balls in the center of court.

“Great,” Sebastian agrees.

They stand in silence for a moment, watching as the coach finishes laying out the balls before he steps back and tells them to split up and pick a side. Blaine heads determinedly right when Sebastian moves towards the left, narrowing his focus when he hears Sebastian call, “Oh, and Blaine?”

He turns to find Sebastian still smirking at him, hands spread in a gesture of innocence as he backs away and says, “I don’t mind you looking, in fact, I encourage it, but your boyfriend might. Just a tip.”

Blaine gapes after him as Sebastian turns on his heel and walks off, forcing himself to shut his mouth when he hears Jeff snickering nearby before he stalks towards the other end of the court.

And if Sebastian is only the third person out on his team and he leaves rubbing at his forehead with a dazed expression on his face, well, it’s nothing personal. Blaine just takes his dodgeball very, _very_ seriously.

\--

It takes ten minutes to psych himself up enough to call Kurt that night, long after he has spent an entire dinner determinedly trying not to read anything into his mother’s stilted attempts to appear interested when he tells her about Sectionals. 

He has long forbidden himself from being upset about his parents’ inability to understand how important performing is to him, they are both very busy people who had been perpetually bemused by their sons dedication to the performing arts and by now he has almost perfected the art of not letting their indifference bother him. 

When he was younger they had made time in their schedules for competitions; for the polo and the fencing and even a singing competition and holiday show or two, but the attendance had tapered off after middle school when Cooper wasn’t around to bug them about it.

It isn’t something he thinks he will ever be entirely okay with, but he is used to it. The people he loves are forever finding new ways to disappoint him, there is something almost reassuring in something so consistent.

Which brings him back to Kurt.

He stares down at the screen of his phone, fingers tapping indecisively at the sides before he sighs and presses call. There really is no reason whatsoever that he should be nervous about inviting Kurt to a party with the Warblers.

Except there is.

Lots of them actually.

“Well, here was I starting to wonder if you were ever going to call,” Kurt jokes the moment he picks up and Blaine relaxes just a little, sinking back into his seat and dragging his feet up with him.

“I was having a late dinner with my mom,” Blaine replies, curling an arm around his knees and peering around at his room. “Dad’s out of town again, so she waited for me to get home.”

Kurt makes a noise that Blaine assumes is of acknowledgement and he takes a deep breath, fighting back the sinking feeling that has been growing heavier in his chest since he sat down to call. He rubs a hand over his knee and does his best to push the feelings away like he has been doing all day with indeterminate success. 

The problem is that he isn’t even sure he _wants_ to invite Kurt to the party. Sebastian’s words have been ringing in his ears all afternoon, no matter how loud he had blasted his stereo on the way home or how hard he had tried to focus on his mother telling him about Cooper’s last phone call home.

Kurt had been a Warbler once, but now Blaine can never quite seem to figure out if even mentioning them is going to earn him the cold shoulder. A part of him has been wondering if Kurt had ever intended on coming to the competition at all.

“You’re quiet,” Kurt ventures cautiously. 

Blaine sighs before he can stop himself, his hand sliding down his leg to curl around his ankle as he says, “I’m just tired, I guess.”

There is another soft noise that Blaine thinks sounds slightly disbelieving before Kurt asks, “So did you think about what we should do tomorrow yet? Because Rachel and I found the _best_ music store yesterday and I was thinking we could go look at songs for my NYADA audition.”

“So that’s what came up then,” Blaine mutters to himself, knowing he is being childish as he drops his head back against the headrest before saying, louder, when he realizes Kurt’s fallen silent, “Nick’s throwing a party tomorrow night to celebrate our win.”

“Oh,” Kurt replies after a moment, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.

“He asked if I’d invite you,” Blaine adds, dragging his thumb absently across the bone of his ankle as he talks.

Kurt’s voice is strained when he asks, “Did you want to go?”

“I’m one of the captains, I have to go,” Blaine replies, shaking himself when it comes out a little sharper than he’d intended.

“Since when do the Warblers have captains?” Kurt repeats and Blaine can imagine the expression on his face from his tone alone. “What happened to the council?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about that,” Blaine says, shifting in his seat and wondering if it was a mistake to call Kurt when he still can’t seem to keep his emotions in check. “I called to ask if you’d like to accompany me to Nick’s party.”

There is another uncomfortable silence, the sound of rustling through the phone before Kurt says, “I don’t know, it’s a long way to drive for just a party. I’m not sure if my dad -”

It is the answer he had expected, if he is being honest, but it settles on top of the other building resentments as he replies, “Well maybe you can go to the music store with Rachel instead.”

There is a huff of air from the other end of the line before Kurt asks, starting to sound decidedly irritated, “Okay, _what_ is going on with you?”

“I’m fine,” Blaine replies immediately, locking his arm around his knees and narrowing his eyes at nothing.

“This is ridiculous,” Kurt huffs. “Obviously something is wrong or you wouldn’t be snapping at me every five seconds.”

Blaine sighs and stares up at his ceiling, taking a deep breath before he says, “I really don’t want to do this now.”

“Do what, Blaine? Actually talk to me for once?” Kurt scoffs back, and it is clear that he is quickly moving from irritated towards angry. “Because I’m getting kind of tired of trying to guess what your problem of the day is.”

“Maybe you should ask Rachel,” Blaine says, closing his eyes as he feels them start to sting again.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Kurt asks, his frustration evident as he says, “Is this because I missed your performance yesterday? Because I texted you to tell you I couldn’t make it and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard you sing every song from Katy Perry _and_ Pink’s entire back-catalogue at least ten times a piece already, Blaine, I can fill in the blanks.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to come?” Blaine asks after a long silence, determinedly keeping his voice steady as the suspicion that has been lurking quietly in the back of his thoughts finally comes to light.

“What - that’s not what I said,” Kurt objects immediately.

“It’s what you meant though, isn’t it?” Blaine says, curling his arm tighter around his knees and taking a deep breath.

Blaine can hear Kurt breathing through the phone, the rustle of paper in the background, before finally he says, “Look, Blaine, I’m really sorry if you’re upset about this but I don’t know why this is such a big deal. I just lost track of time, you can tell me all about it tomorrow while I show you the music store. Maybe just the two of us could celebrate; Breadstix, my treat?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine replies thickly, blinking determinedly up at his ceiling, “It’s a long way to drive just for sheet music.”

He ends the call before he can change his mind and hurls his phone across the room, watching it bounce across the carpet before it skitters away beneath his bed.

\--

It must be clear on his face or maybe she had just overheard him, but his mother doesn’t say a word when he appears at the door of the study, biting his lip and wondering if he should just go hide back in his room. Instead she crosses the room and reaches up to cup his face in her hands, thumbs sweeping softly across his cheekbones as she inspects his face before she pulls him into a hug.

She doesn’t ask the questions he kind of wishes she would and the hug is short, but she also doesn’t stop him when he holds on just a little longer than she does, her hand smoothing over the hair at the nape of his neck until he lets go.

“There’s a party tomorrow,” Blaine says as he tries desperately to ignore the persistent stinging in his eyes.

Her hand drifts up, resting on his cheek fondly for a moment before she says, “You be safe, alright?”

Blaine remembers just enough about exactly when ‘ _have fun_ ’ became ‘ _be safe_ ’ to know that it is her way of showing she cares.

“I will,” he agrees, closing his eyes when she draws back with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder before she turns to move back to her desk.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she says as he turns to leave.

“Goodnight, Mom,” he replies before retreating back down the hall to his room.

\--

Nick’s house is already overrun by the time Blaine arrives. He can pick out the Warblers amidst the crowd of mostly Dalton students, still a little bemused by the sight of them out of their uniforms even after all this time. He feels a little underdressed when he catches a glimpse of Thad wearing a tie, brushing a hand absently across the neck of his henley (he had taken one look at his drawer full of bowties before slamming it closed, hurt brimming in his chest) before forcing a smile onto his face as Nick spots him and comes barrelling over.

From the smell of it, Nick is already well on his way to drunk and he throws an arm around Blaine’s shoulders as he announces to the room at large, “Blaine’s here!”

There are a few returning cheers of approval and Blaine waves awkwardly before Nick drags him off towards the kitchen to get him a drink and Blaine is at least grateful that he doesn’t ask where Kurt is. There is a keg set in the middle of the kitchen, red solo cups scattered across every surface and a collection of bottles set in the middle of the island.

“I didn’t know if you were going to come,” Nick informs him as he moves to fill a cup from the keg.

“I heard this party was going to make Warbler history,” Blaine replies with an attempt at a smile as Nick shoves the cup into his hand. “How could I pass that up?”

There is a shrug of response before Nick asks, “Are you driving or did you want to crash here tonight?”

“I guess I’ll see how it goes,” Blaine replies noncommittally, taking a sip from his cup and trying not to pull a face at the taste of the beer.

Nick snorts, patting him on the shoulder as he says, “It doesn’t taste as bad after you’ve had a few.”

“Now that’s a catchy slogan,” comes another voice from behind them and Blaine turns to watch Sebastian entering the kitchen, carrying a clinking plastic bag in either hand as he says, “Have you ever considered a career in advertising?”

“Shut up, Smythe,” Nick scoffs in return, “I’m pretty sure my brother bought the cheapest beer he could find and pocketed the rest of my money.”

“Lucky for you, superstar, I’m not as cheap as Duval’s brother,” Sebastian replies as he sets his clinking bags down on the kitchen island and gestures for Blaine’s cup, laughter lurking in the dark of his eyes as he adds, “I’ve got something a little sweeter for you.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and braces himself as he throws back the rest of the beer, cringing at the aftertaste and utterly ignoring Nick’s raised eyebrows and Sebastian’s smirk as he hands over his empty cup.

“Well,” Sebastian says after a moment, glancing over at Blaine from the corner of his eye as he starts pulling bottles and cans out of his bags. “It looks like this party just got a whole lot more interesting.”

\--

Blaine has split two Red Bulls and vodka with Sebastian by the time the underlying throb of anger and hurt starts to numb, his fingers curled tightly around his cup where he is perched on the end of a couch and trying to figure out why Jon is doing the robot off in a corner by himself. 

He can see James in the midst of a group of guys from the lacrosse team, gathered together around the stereo and beyond him he can see Thad gesturing emphatically in David’s face. He is finally starting to feel a little more relaxed when Jeff leans across from where he has been stuck in conversation with Trent for the past half hour to peer down into his cup and asks, “Hey, how come you get the good stuff?”

He blinks, glancing down as Jeff leans into his space and opens his mouth to reply when he is cut off by an amused, “Co-captain privileges,” as Sebastian leans against the edge of the couch. “Speaking of, you aren’t dancing so I’ll take that to mean you aren’t drunk enough yet, Anderson.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like dancing,” Blaine replies, emptying the last of his drink with a roll of his eyes when Sebastian extends his hand for it.

“Then I’m doomed to a night of wondering what the hell that’s supposed to be,” Sebastian replies, tipping his head in Jon’s direction before coaxing Blaine to his feet with an amused, “Come on, Anderson, are those painted on?”

Blaine sighs and follows in his wake, ignoring the far too satisfied expression on Sebastian’s face as he leads him out of the room. The kitchen is strangely quiet, only echoes of the noise from the other room filtering in as he leans back against the island to watch Sebastian pour their drinks.

“So where’s the boyfriend?” Sebastian asks as he cracks open another Red Bull.

“He’s busy,” Blaine replies curtly, tugging at the sleeves of his cardigan distractedly as he tries not to notice the way Sebastian has rolled back the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and how that shows off the smooth, strong definition in his forearms.

“He seems to be busy a lot,” Sebastian replies as he evenly splits the Red Bull between their cups before reaching for the vodka. “If I hadn’t already met him I’m not sure I’d believe he exists.”

Blaine bites down on his lip, the excuses that jump to mind being dismissed just as quickly because the last thing he wants to do tonight is spend more time justifying why Kurt is too busy for him. “Well, he does,” he says instead, shrugging expansively. 

Sebastian shoots him an amused look before he hands Blaine’s cup over, raising his own in the air for Blaine to clink it against before he laughs to himself, shaking his head and takes a sip from his cup.

“What?” Blaine asks, watching Sebastian cock his head to the side, his lips still twitching with suppressed amusement even after the laughter dies.

“Nothing,” Sebastian replies, taking another sip from his cup to hide his smirk.

“No, really, what?” Blaine says, his fingers curling a little tighter around the edge of his cup as Sebastian seems to consider him for a moment before he reaches past Blaine to set his drink down on the island behind him and simultaneously steps in closer.

“I was just thinking,” Sebastian starts to reply, as he reaches out to carefully prise Blaine’s drink from his fingers and set it down on the counter next to his own, eyes dropping momentarily towards Blaine’s lips before up to meet his eyes again, “That your boyfriend’s priorities really kind of suck.”

Blaine opens his mouth to protest, his head tilting back as his eyes drift up, and he abruptly realizes just how close they are standing. Close enough that he can track the path of each individual beauty spot up the length of Sebastian’s throat. 

Close enough that he can see just how green Sebastian’s eyes actually are from up close and the pretty scatter of freckles that surround them. 

Close enough that he can smell Sebastian’s cologne and feel the heat of him as Sebastian’s hands come up to rest against the kitchen island behind him, bracketing Blaine between them without actually touching. 

Close enough that if Sebastian were to lean in and Blaine was to tip his head back just a little more...

"Oh, oh _dude_ , my bad, sorry."

Too close, actually. Far too close.

Blaine jerks his head around, eyes wide as he catches sight of someone he vaguely recognizes as being on the lacrosse team backing out of the kitchen.

The sight is jarring, sobering even, and it makes his chest clench painfully in realization because what was he even _doing?_ What was he thinking? However hurt he might be feeling, Kurt does not deserve to be treated like this. Blaine is not the type of person who even considers cheating on someone. Or at least, he thought he wasn’t.

Maybe he doesn’t know himself quite as well as he thought he did.

He looks away, something heavy sinking in his stomach as he swallows hard, laughing uncomfortably as he says, "I think I need some air."

"Sure you do, Anderson,” Sebastian's eyebrows raise upwards knowingly as he steps back, hands sliding into his pockets before he says, “You just let me know when you're ready to admit what you really want."

With that he shrugs, reaches past Blaine to grab his drink and heads back out of the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving Blaine to lean heavily back against the kitchen island, left alone with his thoughts.

-

Nick finds him twenty minutes later where he has migrated to the back porch. His drink is still sitting untouched at his side and he feels sick to his stomach, his arms curled around his knees. 

Blaine looks up, blinking through the dim light when Nick drops down next to him and says, "There you are, I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

"I needed some air," Blaine replies, turning his attention back to the empty yard.

"Well, everyone was wondering where you’d gone," Nick says lightly, grinning easily at him as he leans over to nudge his shoulder. "We _won_ , man, we’re moving on to Regionals. At least try to look a little less miserable about it."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's not you guys," Blaine replies, rubbing at the back of his neck before he turns towards Nick and blurts out, “Sebastian almost kissed me.”

The fact that Nick seems entirely unsurprised by his announcement gives Blaine pause. His soft laugh of, “You knew already,” drawing an almost apologetic smile to Nick’s face.

“Tyler kind of has a big mouth,” Nick replies, leaning back against the wall of the house and eyeing Blaine carefully. “Though the way he told it Sebastian had his tongue down your throat when he walked in.”

Blaine groans, covering his face with his hands and trying to resist the urge to curl further into himself. “This is a disaster. Kurt is going to break up with me and hate me forever.”

“You didn’t actually kiss him though, right?” Nick says, sounding only the slightest bit awkward as he turns to look at him.

“No!” Blaine replies immediately, turning toward Nick as if to convince him. “I couldn’t do that to Kurt.” 

“Well it could be worse then,” Nick assures him, patting awkwardly at his shoulder like he’s not entirely sure what he is supposed to say.

Blaine almost wants to laugh, his eyes stinging as he stares up at the dark sky, not a single star in sight, and he shivers a little, rubbing at his arms because yes, it could be worse than that. It _is_ worse than that. Because he may not be able to say it out loud but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true.

He had _wanted_ to kiss Sebastian - and it wasn’t because he wanted to hurt Kurt or because he is angry or sad or drunk, he had simply wanted to. And now he can’t seem to figure out whether that makes it better or worse.

“Blaine,” Nick sounds uncomfortable, like he isn’t sure he particularly wants to be asking this as he says, “Are you even happy?”

The question hangs heavily between them, sinking into his thoughts as he rubs his hands over his arms to ward off the cold that only seems to be getting worse. If he is being honest, Blaine can’t remember the last time he was truly, honestly happy. He feels like he spends most of his time these days not knowing what he is going to do wrong next.

“No,” he replies after a moment and the realization, the blunt honesty of it, has him reaching for the drink at his side for the first time since it was poured.

The Red Bull has gone flat and tastes syrupy on his tongue, sharp with the cut of vodka beneath it as he sets it aside again and stares out at the night, wondering just when it got so cold.

He can feel Nick staring at the side of his face as he shivers before Nick is carefully pushing himself back to his feet, wobbling a little when he gets there as he says, “We should go back inside, it’s freezing out here.”

Blaine nods, pushing himself carefully back to his feet as he says, “Yeah, we should.”

\--

Later on Nick will confiscate his keys before showing him to a guest room and Blaine will spend the entire night staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the soundtrack of Jon’s snoring where he has passed out on the floor and trying to decide what he should do.

The problem, really, is that he _knows_ what he has to do.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

\--

Blaine rubs a hand over his eyes, head bowed low over his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath. A quick glance upward shows nothing has changed; Kurt's car is still in the driveway and neither Burt nor Carole's cars are in sight.

This should not be so hard.

He takes another steadying breath before reaching for the door handle. Psyching himself up as he slowly makes his way up the front path. The house seems different than it had been over the summer. Quieter and more closed-off, less inviting than he remembers it somehow. He knows that with Burt gone so often and Carole’s shift-work, Kurt and Finn are home alone more often than not now.

Blaine sighs as he reaches out to knock but the door creaks open before his fist even connects, Kurt staring out at him with a determinedly neutral expression as he says, "I didn't know if you were going to come inside or not."

"Neither did I," Blaine replies, shifting on the spot and trying to smile before he gives up and says, "I think we need to talk."

Kurt curls his arms in tight around his chest as he takes a step back, inviting Blaine in with a tip of his head and a quiet, "I think we do."

\--

They end up seated on opposite sides of the dining room table, Kurt pushing a glass of water across the table to him with a neutral expression while Blaine tries to figure out what he wants to say.

"So are you going to tell me what this is about?" Kurt finally asks, sitting tall in his seat and staring determinedly across the table at him.

Blaine takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands over his face before he says, "This isn't working."

Kurt eyes him carefully, tapping his fingers across the tabletop before he forcibly stills them, clearing his throat before he asks, "What do you mean?"

"I," Blaine chews his lower lip, frowning as he shifts uncomfortably and lowers his eyes to the table. "Are you happy, Kurt?”

There is dead silence, Kurt staring across the table at him like he doesn’t know what to make of the question, before a decidedly defensive response of, “Of course I am.”

“Are you really?” Blaine persists, raising his eyes to watch Kurt carefully.

“I have a lot going on at the moment,” Kurt replies, frowning a little and shifting back in his seat, arms curling around himself. “It’s my senior year, Blaine. I’m sorry if that makes you feel neglected but I’m just -”

“Busy,” Blaine finishes with him, his smile a little sad when Kurt’s eyes jerk up to meet his. “I know, Kurt, that’s not what I was saying.”

“Well, what are you saying?” Kurt asks cautiously, “Because I’m really tired of trying to figure out what’s going on with you when you won’t _tell_ me, Blaine.”

“I’m saying that I am tired of fighting about everything with you, Kurt,” he replies, rubbing at his eyes as his throat starts to tighten and his attempted smile falters. “I’m tired of not seeing you. I miss being able to talk to you about anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. I miss my best friend. I miss _you_.”

“But I’m right here,” Kurt replies, his expression softening although it is clear he doesn’t understand what Blaine is trying to say. “You can tell me anything, Blaine, you know that.”

“No you’re not,” Blaine replies quietly, dropping his head into his hands and staring down at the tabletop as he tries to gather his thoughts. “And when I try to talk to you, it’s like you can’t hear me.”

“It’s kind of hard to listen when you won’t talk to me,” Kurt says immediately.

“You don’t want to hear it,” Blaine replies, rubbing his hands over his face before he looks up. 

“Well, what is it that you’ve been trying to tell me?” Kurt asks, his voice rising in pitch as he starts to lose his composure.

“Sebastian almost kissed me last night,” Blaine admits quietly, dragging his arms in around himself as he forces himself to meet Kurt’s eyes. 

The slow disintegration of the composure on Kurt’s face makes him draw back, fingers digging into his arms as he watches the progression from shock to hurt to anger before Kurt snaps, “I knew it.”

“I stopped it,” Blaine continues, his heart thumping loudly against his ribcage as Kurt’s face continues to grow angrier and angrier. “It wasn’t -”

“Why can’t you see how awful that guy is?” Kurt asks, cutting him off mid-sentence. “All he wants from you is sex, Blaine. How can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t about Sebastian,” Blaine tries to say, his ears ringing with Kurt’s words.

Kurt laughs, his voice high and incredulous as he shakes his head and asks, “What _is_ this about then, Blaine? Because you already told me you almost cheated on me last night, how much more is there?”

“I’m not happy,” Blaine blurts out, his eyes shooting upwards as Kurt falls silent, sinking back in his seat and staring across the table at him, the anger still burning in his eyes delayed by surprise and the briefest flash of hurt. “I haven’t been for a while.”

“Were you ever going to tell me this?” Kurt asks, staring at him like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Blaine replies thickly, trying to ignore the way his throat clenches around nothing as he stares down at the table. “I know more about what’s happening with the rest of your glee club than I do about why your dad isn’t here this weekend or why you keep shutting me out when things get bad and I can’t even talk to you about what’s happening at Dalton because every time I do I feel like you’re still blaming me for not transferring.”

“You didn’t even _try_ ,” Kurt replies and Blaine’s eyes dart upwards as he realizes Kurt’s voice is actually shaking. “Did you even really ask them?”

The confirmation sits heavy on his chest and he stares back, eyes stinging as he says, “Of course I asked them, Kurt. They said no. How can you even ask me that?”

“Because your parents are _so_ concerned with your safety,” Kurt scoffs and Blaine recognizes the look on his face, the precise moment when Kurt’s feelings turn from hurt to lashing out, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

Blaine closes his eyes, surprised to find his eyelashes are wet as he tries to compose himself, before he says, “I think we need to take a break.”

When he opens his eyes Kurt is staring back at him, his expression closed off as he says, “Maybe we should.”

Blaine nods, taking a steadying breath as he pushes himself up out of his chair, taking an unsteady breath before he says, “I guess I’ll talk to you later then.”

“No,” Kurt replies, his voice thick with suppressed emotion and his hands pressed flat against the surface of the table as he looks up at Blaine with that same indecipherable expression. “If you want to take a break then that’s it.”

There is silence for a moment, Blaine staring back at Kurt with his breath caught in his throat before he asks, “So we’re breaking up then?”

Kurt nods, quickly, lips pressed into a thin line before he says, “I guess we are.”

“Okay.” Blaine’s throat clenches painfully, eyes dipping low as he nods slowly in return, forcing himself to take another breath before he says, “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt’s face is unreadable, his posture frozen as he replies, “Goodbye, Blaine.”

Blaine forces himself to start walking, around the edge of the table, through the empty living room and the quiet hallway, the click of the door shutting behind him as he reaches the front porch making his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Every step feels a little bit more like the end.

Blaine makes it barely ten minutes down the road before he has to pull over, his breath shuddering as tears sneak down his face, fat and hot and persistent no matter how many times he tries to swipe them away. 

His heart throbs painfully in his chest, his throat tight as he tries to breathe and he can’t make it stop. Not the shuddering gasps that tear their way up his throat or the bone-deep ache that courses through him. 

He can’t help but wonder why, if this is the right thing to do, it has to hurt so much.

\--


	4. Chapter 4

James seems to realize something is wrong the moment that Blaine enters their dorm. 

Blaine had stopped back at his house on the way back to Westerville long enough to clean himself up, pick up his things and try to calm down, but he still feels like he is teetering on the edge by the time he reaches Dalton grounds. 

He has been determinedly hanging his shirts and his blazer back in the closet, taking his time putting things away to try and steel his emotions. He can practically feel James watching him from over the top of the copy of a Sports Illustrated, the weight of his eyes evident as he flicks through the pages and doesn’t even pretend to read.

“You alright?” James ventures once Blaine has run out of things to put away and is left standing aimlessly in the middle of their room, at a loss for what to do with himself.

Keeping busy is the only defence he has left against not dealing with what has happened, what breaking up with Kurt is actually going to mean. Kurt has been his everything for over a year now, his best friend and his boyfriend and the person he has trusted the most of anyone in his life. It is only really beginning to hit him now that all of that is gone.

Blaine considers telling James he is fine, pretending for as long as he possibly can so he won’t have to admit that it is over. But he knows it is just putting off the inevitable, James will figure it out quickly enough when he notices Kurt isn’t calling anymore. 

"I broke up with my boyfriend," he says finally, sinking down onto the edge of his bed, the words feeling thick and bitter and wrong on his tongue and none of this is fair - he is the one who broke up with Kurt. This shouldn’t be so hard to accept.

"Oh," James replies, the magazine dropping from his fingers into his lap as he eyes Blaine cautiously. "Was it because of what happened at the party?"

Blaine looks up, forehead crinkling with surprise and confusion as James cocks his head and says, "Yeah, I was there. Smythe invited the lacrosse team remember?"

"It was a lot of things," Blaine says after a moment, the realization that people are going to think he broke up with Kurt because of Sebastian settling uncomfortably beneath his skin as he pulls his feet up in front of him and slumps back against the head of his bed. "I just - I don't know if I did the right thing."

James stares over at him, shifting uncomfortably like he doesn't know what he is supposed to say to that, before he eventually ventures, "That’s rough man, do you want, like, a hug or something?”

Blaine cranes his head around in surprise and the expression on his face must say it all because James hurriedly adds, “Or you can borrow my Sports Illustrated if you want, I'm sure there are mostly naked guys in there somewhere. I can go to the gym for a while and you can have at it."

James slides the magazine off his lap and out of sight after a moment of Blaine just staring at him in horror. James shrugs uncomfortably, looking away as he says, “I don’t know, I’m not good at dealing with sad people.”

There is a moment where Blaine just watches him before he sighs, curling his arms around his knees as his lips twitch in the smallest of wry smiles and says, “I’ve noticed.”

James snorts and looks like he is seriously considering throwing his pillow before Blaine adds with another attempt at a smile, “But thanks anyway, for trying.”

\--

Monday goes about as well as Blaine expected it to.

He sleeps late and misses breakfast, only just making it to the Biology classroom as the second bell rings. Archer gives him a dirty look as he slips in the door and hurries to sit down and Blaine has been trying so hard not to give him an excuse to get on his case that it feels like an automatic failure on his part.

Sebastian glances up, eyebrows quirking upwards in a question as Blaine takes his seat but he determinedly looks away, not wanting to deal with the knowing curve of Sebastian’s smirk today. 

Blaine doesn’t know how he is supposed to act around Sebastian after what happened at Nick’s party. He has spent far too much time wondering if Sebastian had just been trying to get under his skin and what he would think if he knew that he had, and Blaine knows that as soon as word gets out about his breakup with Kurt that there won’t be any stopping the rumors. Mostly, he is far too tired and too upset to deal with Sebastian today.

Instead he focuses on taking notes, his head bowed low over his work to keep from the urge to glance over and see if Sebastian is still looking. It feels like a minor miracle when he manages to get through the entire lesson without Archer calling on him or Sebastian coaxing him into talking to him, the relative peace and two pages of meticulously written notes helping to soothe the feeling that he is going to tear apart at the seams at any given moment.

He hates feeling like this; like his life is headed into a complete tailspin and he can’t quite seem to bring it back under control. No good would have come from clinging to Kurt the way he has been lately; chasing after the feeling that has been slipping away a little more with every fight and every disappointment; every little knock in their armour. It scares him that he hadn’t even been able to admit to himself how miserable it had made him. 

Blaine misses Kurt so much it physically hurts to think about it, but he is starting to realize that it’s not a new feeling; he has _been_ missing Kurt for a long time now. The Kurt he had fallen head over heels for over the summer, the Kurt he could talk to about anything without the constant fear of starting an argument. He doesn’t know how things could have changed for them so quickly.

And maybe it is more complicated than just missing Kurt; that maybe he misses his best friend more than the way Kurt used to make him feel.

He wants, more than anything, for Kurt to have everything he has ever wanted, but Blaine is starting to realize that it shouldn’t come at the cost of his own happiness.

As he stows his books carefully back into his bag, Blaine pretends not to notice Sebastian waiting for him, leaning against the edge of the desk and eyeing him thoughtfully. It is clear that it isn’t going to work when Blaine moves to leave and Sebastian is still there, blocking his path.

“I have to get to English,” Blaine says uncomfortably, tugging his satchel higher onto his shoulder and looking away because he simply does not have the energy to decipher Sebastian’s motives today.

“What a coincidence,” Sebastian replies dryly, stepping back so Blaine can edge past him before falling into step next to him.

Blaine sighs a little, glancing over from the corner of his eye suspiciously as they make their way out into the corridor. Blaine notes with some annoyance that Jeff (the traitor) is already halfway down the corridor.

“You aren’t pouting because I didn’t kiss you, are you?” Sebastian asks after they have been walking for a while, his lips still curled in that teasing, obnoxious smirk as Blaine turns his head to glare at him.

“I’m not pouting about anything,” he replies stiffly. “Least of all you.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows shoot up, something a little bit intrigued flashing through his eyes before he reaches out to catch Blaine by the arm, ignoring the indignant sound of protest that Blaine makes as he tugs him off to the side of the corridor. 

Blaine blushes in spite of himself at the sound of the catcalls that rise in their wake as Sebastian pulls him into an empty classroom, not relinquishing his grip on Blaine’s arm until the door is closed behind him and he is leaning back against it, watching Blaine thoughtfully.

Blaine takes another step back from him, rubbing indignantly at his arm even though it didn’t actually hurt and glancing around the empty classroom with a scowl.

“Well? What is it, Anderson? Is the boyfriend really leaving you _that_ unsatisfied?” Sebastian asks, “Because as adorable as it is watching you try to intimidate the masses with your little Bambi glares of sexual frustration, if _he’s_ not going to help you deal with all of the tension we’ve got going here, I’ve got a few suggestions.”

“Why do you have to do that?” Blaine asks, throwing his hands up and trying to ignore the prickle of heat behind his eyes at even the casual reminder of Kurt and he can hear Kurt saying, ‘ _All he wants from you is sex,_ ’ echoing in his ears. “This is why I didn’t want to talk to you.”

Sebastian shrugs a little as he replies, “You’re sexy when you’re angry. Besides, we’re friends aren’t we? I’m allowed to wonder why you’ve suddenly decided to stop talking.”

“I didn’t suddenly decide to stop talking,” Blaine snaps back, curling his arms across his chest and tucking his hands beneath his armpits as he ducks his chin, “I decided I didn’t want to talk to _you_. There’s a difference.”

Something indecipherable flashes across Sebastian’s face before he laughs, lips drawn thin across his teeth as he says, “Oh I get it, this is one of his conditions, isn’t it? You told him what happened at the party and now he wants you to stay away from big, bad Sebastian so I can’t corrupt you anymore.”

Blaine sighs, eyes dropping to his feet as the defensive wall that he has been building up all morning crumbles, his hands dragging down his face as he says, “This isn’t about you, okay?”

There is a moment of hesitation, like Sebastian hadn’t anticipated that answer at all, before his face returns to something neutral and he asks, “Well you can’t hold out on me now, Anderson, not when we’re just getting to the good part.”

Blaine closes his eyes, his fingers shifting to grapple with his tie because it suddenly feels too tight and everything feels stifling - the room, the uniform, the entire goddamned school. He wants to be far, far away from Dalton - sitting in some dirty public school classroom with uncomfortable chairs and incompetent teachers with Kurt’s fingers intertwined with his beneath a desk. 

He wants his parents to care just a little bit less or a little bit more or whatever it is that would have gotten him to a place where he doesn’t feel like he has just lost the best friend he has ever had and his first love in one foul swoop. He wants Sebastian to stop looking at him like _that._

“Kurt and I broke up yesterday," he admits, looking away because he is not quite sure that he wants to see Sebastian’s reaction, whatever it may be. “And, for the record, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do I look like the guy who wants to talk about feelings?” Sebastian replies lightly and when Blaine chances to look at him his face is surprisingly neutral beyond the slightest curve at the edge of his lips.

“Good,” Blaine replies, chewing his lower lip and staring down at the toes of his shoes as he says, “Because I’m fine.”

It is the look of amused skepticism on Sebastian’s face when he glances up that finally breaks his composure. His satchel drops with a thump to the floor, forgotten entirely as he turns around, scrubbing at his eyes with frustration when he can feel tears threatening to build, because if there is one person in this school that he refuses to cry in front of, it is Sebastian Smythe. 

The steadying breath he attempts shudders loudly on the exhale, his shoulders trembling with the effort as he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on anything else. 

"It’s his loss," he hears Sebastian say uncomfortably, the sound of footsteps barely registering until there is a hand resting on his shoulder and Blaine wants to shrug him off, to tell him that he knows nothing about what Blaine has lost, because all he can see is Kurt’s eyes staring back at him full of accusations, blue and hurt and angry, but the hand slides off his shoulder before he can.

Instead there is the warm heat of Sebastian’s chest pressing against his back and he is being tugged back into the circle of Sebastian’s arms. 

"I didn't do it because of you," Blaine says, because he is sure that this must be pushing past some boundary, that this is too much.

It doesn’t feel anything like the hugs he is used to - not at all like the stilted, brief attempts of his mother or his father’s, stiff and one-armed, always ending with an awkward pat on the shoulder. Kurt’s unhindered enthusiasm and warmth as he bounded into his arms or his brother’s all-encompassing, world-fixing hugs from when he was younger. Sebastian is tall and strong like his brother, but this doesn’t feel so much like a hug as it feels like being held. 

"Oh, so you didn't want me to kiss it better then?" Sebastian asks, his voice low and amused as he scoffs, “I’m hurt, Anderson.”

"I did it for me," Blaine says, not knowing whether he should step away from Sebastian now or just accept the warmth from the arms wrapped around him. "I just - I want to focus on the Warblers, for now. On Regionals."

Sebastian’s arms drop, his hands drifting down the length of Blaine’s arms before he steps back and Blaine has to actively stop himself from following, heat pooling in his cheeks as he turns to ask, “Why did you do that?”

There is something far too amused in Sebastian’s eyes as he takes another step back, shrugging a little as he says, “You know me, Anderson. Any excuse to cop a feel.”

“Jerk,” Blaine scoffs, though he finds that he can’t quite stop the smile that is tugging at his lips. “You made me late for English, I hope you realize.”

Sebastian shrugs again, his lips curving in amusement as he says, “We can call it a war council session.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose a little, laughing in spite of himself as he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Just leave it to me,” Sebastian replies, the smile sliding slowly back into place. “Regionals is going to be a bloodbath.”

\--

The next few weeks pass slowly, dragging in the build up to the holidays. His teachers continue to pile more and more work on them before the impending break and the Warblers are hard at work putting together the setlist for their Winter Showcase, but none of it seems to be quite enough to distract from the deafening silence on Kurt's end.

The initial heartbreak has started to soften a little, giving way to a dull ache and the quieter, underlying feeling of absence. It is hard to wallow, however, when he has the Warblers running interference.

Blaine is grateful for their attempts to keep him occupied; the initial two weeks after the break up he spent more time in the gym than he has since he first came to Dalton, brimming with the kind of anger and hurt that simmers dark and ugly beneath the surface. But all that spending his frustration into the surface of a punching bag had earned him was a bone-deep, constant ache in his hands to match the one in his chest.

It has been better lately, but there is still an intense sense of relief by the time they reach the final week before the holiday break.

The text arrives as he is leaving his first class of the day, the buzz against his thigh startling in a way it shouldn’t be. Blaine drags his phone from his pocket with an eagerness that he would never admit to, his heart thumping loudly as he unlocks the screen before he stops dead in the hallway, staring blankly down at the screen.

Nick turns on his heel as he realizes that Blaine has fallen behind, a hand reaching out to close around Blaine's arm as he asks, "Hey, are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Blaine replies, taking a moment to shake himself out of the daze as a smile tries to creep across his lips. "My brother just flew in for the holidays early. He wants to take me out for dinner."

"Can he take me too?" Nick jokes, dropping his hand back to his side as he adds, "I think my mom’s making meatloaf today. I swear that she knows about the party and is slowly trying to torture a confession out of me."

Blaine laughs as he starts to type back his response to Cooper, determinedly stifling the nerves that keep trying to surface at the prospect of his brother being back in town. There is usually more time to brace himself for the rushing high of Cooper's appearances, the flood of warmth and excitement that is always inevitably followed by the crushing low when everything takes its usual turn.

"Hey do you think he'll want to come to the Winter Showcase?” Nick asks suddenly, turning towards Blaine with curious eyes, “It’s just - we still have tickets to sell."

"I don't know," Blaine replies, feeling inexplicably guilty about the sinking feeling he gets in his chest at even the prospect of Cooper being there. "I guess I can ask him."

Thankfully Nick doesn't even seem to notice his hesitation, his smile is broad and excited as he says, "Great, because I know you said your parents will be working so it would be cool to have someone from your family there, right?"

"Right," Blaine agrees through a tight smile, his eyes drifting downward as his phone buzzes in his hand with another text. "Why didn't I think of that?"

\--

The next text arrives in the middle of his English class. He checks it after only a quick, surreptitious look over at the check-in desk where their teacher is busy flirting with the librarian and can’t keep the horror from his face at what he finds.

_How do you even find your way around this place Squirt? All the buildings look exactly the same._

The strangled noise that escapes his throat draws Jeff's attention away from his book, his whispered, "You okay?" turning the heads of the rest of their table.

"My brother's here," he replies, staring down at his phone in dismay as if it might change it’s mind. "Why is my brother here?"

"Now?" Nick asks curiously, "I thought you said he was taking you out for dinner."

"Apparently he changed his mind," Blaine says, wincing as his phone buzzes in his hand again.

_Never mind. Your French teacher is really hot._

"Is he just wandering around the school?" Sebastian asks as he leans in to see the screen of Blaine’s phone, their shoulders knocking together as it buzzes in his hand.

_The chandeliers are a bit much, don't you think?_

"Apparently," Blaine replies a little miserably, trying to ignore Sebastian’s soft noise of amusement and the warmth he can feel spreading from that single point of contact between them.

 _I'm busting you out of here, little brother_ arrives next and Blaine knows Cooper well enough to be certain that nothing good will come of those words, a suspicion only heightened by the sudden and complete radio-silence that follows. 

Blaine stares uneasily down at the screen as it remains stubbornly blank, his sense of foreboding continuing to build as the others seemingly give up on him elaborating and return to their work. There is something about knowing that his brother is out there, unleashed on the unsuspecting student body that has him tense, his fingers drumming across the tabletop in something caught between nerves and anticipation.

As it turns out, he hears Cooper long before he sees him. There is the telltale sound of someone giggling as the library doors open and Blaine is stuck between fighting the urge to slide low into his seat in the hopes that Sebastian will block him from view and trying to stop the spectacle in it’s tracks before it gathers steam. The decision is made for him when his brother calls out, blatantly ignoring the first universal rule of libraries everywhere, and sounding uncommonly solemn as he says, "Blainey, there you are."

"Blainey?" Sebastian asks around a smirk, his eyebrows arching upward when Blaine only glares in response before his attention is dragged away.

Cooper looks entirely out of place standing in the middle of the Dalton library. 

Every inch of him is cultivated Hollywood, from the perfectly styled hair and the worn leather jacket to the Colgate smile he flashes as he strides across the library towards their table, entirely oblivious to the way Blaine’s classmates are craning their heads around to stare.

He is only halfway out of his seat when Cooper pulls him up the rest of the way, right into a bone-crushing hug before he leans back, smiling broadly as his hands reach up to grip the sides of Blaine’s face and he says, “How are you, bud?” 

Nothing can stop the smile that springs up from nowhere, overriding the hesitation Blaine has been feeling since he received that first text that morning. Cooper has always had this energy that surrounds him, an infectious warmth that sucks people in and makes Blaine ignore the part of him that tells him he should know better. 

Cooper’s hands drop back to his sides once his escort catches up, the echo of Madame Young’s heels across the marble floors drawing Blaine’s eyes to her bewildering expression of sympathy before she says, "I'm so sorry to hear about your sister, Blaine."

Blaine tries desperately to school his expression as he glances towards Cooper and asks, "My what?"

"Little Annie was taken suddenly ill during the night," Cooper replies with a comically stricken expression, his eyes downcast as he sighs, "They suspect it might be scarlet fever."

The urge to kick him is overwhelming, especially when he hears the stifled sounds of laughter from behind him, but Blaine settles for grimacing as Cooper’s eyes widen in unsubtle encouragement, before asking, "Is she going to be alright?"

"It's too soon to say," Cooper replies, staring off into the distance with unnecessary gravitas before his head snaps back to Madame Young, reaching out to take her hands between his as he says, "Thank you so much for your assistance during this difficult time."

"I hope your sister gets better," she replies, looking a little startled by the attention. "Don't you worry about a thing, Blaine. I'll explain everything to your teacher."

"You are too kind," Cooper says before Blaine can even open his mouth, squeezing her hands firmly between his before releasing them as she turns to walk towards the check-in desk, glancing periodically over her shoulder as if she isn’t entirely sure what just happened.

Cooper watches her walk away for a moment, raising a hand to wave when she glances back, before turning back to face Blaine as he says, "God, it is great to be back in the midwest."

"Why do you do that?" Blaine asks as soon as she is out of earshot and Cooper beams at him, clasping a hand over the curve of his shoulder.

"Anyone would think you weren't worried about our poor, sweet little sister, Blaine," he admonishes.

"We don't have a sister, Coop," Blaine replies bluntly, shifting uncomfortably as Cooper tugs on the lapels of his blazer in amusement.

"Not with that attitude we won't, Blainey, we've talked about this; you really need to _commit_ to the scene at hand, just really give in to it," Cooper says, dusting off Blaine's shoulders before apparently registering that they have an audience. “Who do we have here?”

The expressions on his friend’s faces make Blaine inexplicably nervous, from the barely contained amusement on Sebastian’s face to the open curiosity on Nick and Jeff’s, to Trent’s unabashed staring from the end of the table. “These are my friends,” Blaine replies uncomfortably once he realizes it has taken him a little too long to say anything, “That’s Nick and Jeff and Trent and -”

"Is this your boyfriend, Squirt?" Cooper interrupts him, seemingly not even listening as he eyes Sebastian with an inexplicable amount of interest.

"No," Blaine replies hurriedly, trying to will the heat that is rising up the back of his neck down and pointedly ignoring the way Sebastian smirks and raises his eyebrows as he adds, "I told you that Kurt and I broke up, Coop. That's Sebastian. And please don't call me that."

Cooper doesn’t seem all that convinced by his response, his smile brilliant as he extends a hand to Sebastian anyway, saying, "I'm Blaine's big brother, Cooper."

"Sebastian Smythe," Sebastian replies, glancing over at Blaine from the corner of his eye as he shakes Cooper’s hand and smirking just a little as Blaine tries his best not to scowl.

"Hey," Jeff suddenly blurts out from across the table, breaking the moment as his eyes go round with sudden recognition and he says, “You're the free credit ratings guy!” 

Blaine strongly considers attempting to sink into the ground as Jeff starts to hum that awful jingle enthusiastically and Cooper laughs and reaches out to shake his hand as well, beaming as he says, "Guilty as charged." 

Cooper pulls back from shaking hands to sling an arm around Blaine's neck, dragging him in underneath his arm in the way he has done since they were kids and Cooper first figured out how it made girls coo at him, and beams down at him as he says, "So what do you say, Blainey? I was thinking you and I could skip out for the afternoon."

"I have classes," Blaine says, unsure of why the way his friends are looking at him feels different but it unsettles him and the urge to shake off Cooper’s arm is growing with each passing moment.

Cooper seems entirely oblivious to his unease, rolling his eyes and jostling Blaine’s shoulders playfully as he says, "It's almost Christmas break kiddo, I'm sure you won't miss out on anything too exciting."

"We have to rehearse for the Winter Showcase," Blaine adds, glancing back at his friends in the hopes that one of them will agree with him.

It even seems like he has an ally when Nick's eyes light up with realization, right up until he says, "Hey, maybe Cooper could come sit in on our rehearsal this afternoon." 

Blaine schools his face, not entirely sure why the idea of sharing the Warblers with his brother bothers him so much but determined not to show it, as Cooper announces, "After all Blaine’s told me about the Warblers it would be a crime not to see you all in action. We'll get lunch and I’ll have you back in time for rehearsals, okay Blaine? Besides, we can't leave little Annie to suffer alone now, right? _Riiight?_ "

"Okay," Blaine relents, studiously avoiding the fascinated expressions on his friends faces as he slips out from beneath Cooper’s arm to shrug into his coat, eyes fixed on his hands as he buttons it while Cooper grabs his satchel, slinging it over his own shoulder before dragging Blaine back in under his arm.

Blaine waves half-heartedly over his shoulder as they leave, Cooper adding a bright smile and a “See you later” while Blaine does his best not to look too miserable in the face of the bemused expressions on his friends faces.

"What are you doing here?" Blaine asks once Cooper guides him out through the library doors, “I thought you weren’t due to fly in until next week?”

"Research, little brother," Cooper replies cheerfully, peering curiously around himself at Dalton's finery with interest as they walk. "My commercial’s on hiatus, so I told my agent I was headed back to the heartland to press the flesh. I’ve heard that next season’s commercials are going to have a lot more intense, gritty character stuff so I thought I’d get ahead of the game, you know, really explore my salt of the earth roots.” 

Cooper glances up as they pass beneath a chandelier, his lips curving a little as he adds, “Not that I’ll find much of that around here, but what better opportunity am I going to get to come see where my baby brother hangs out, huh?"

"Right," Blaine replies, the uncertainty that has been welling in his chest softening a little as Cooper jostles his shoulders, a hesitant smile breaching his lips.

"I have to say that it’s a bit of a step up from the old Ada High," Cooper continues, eyeing a marble bust as they pass it by with frank amusement. "I can’t say I know why you'd want to transfer back to a public school after this."

Blaine stiffens, the mention of his old school drawing his shoulders in tight and his chin tucked in, eyes fixed on his feet through ingrained instincts he didn’t know he still had as he says, "You’ve been talking to Mom, haven't you?"

"Dad actually," Cooper corrects him, his arm tightening fractionally around Blaine’s shoulders as he says, "Though since you've apparently broken up with the boyfriend I guess they're out of danger there."

"I didn't want to transfer just for Kurt," Blaine says indignantly out of some ingrained habit, though he is really not all that convinced of it’s truth anymore.

"Uh huh," Cooper replies, eyebrows hitched high in disbelief for just a moment before he lets it drop, voice lowering to something conspiratory and teasing as he says, "Though it seems to me like you've already got a few new prospects on the horizon."

"Those guys are my friends," Blaine replies uncomfortably, looking away when Cooper just laughs at him.

"Whatever you say, Squirt,” Cooper agrees amiably, fingers squeezing into his arm. “I'm not sure your harem would agree though."

Blaine lets out an embarrassed squawk of laughter, shoving at his brother’s side as he says, "Shut up, Cooper."

Cooper’s laughter echoes down the halls as he tries to ruffle Blaine’s hair, apparently thinking the better of it as he eyes his fingers with a grimace before patting at Blaine’s arm instead. "Come on, little brother, we can discuss your prospects over lunch."

\--

The thing about Cooper is that, while Blaine truly does love having him around, his visits inevitably seem to herald disaster in some major way in Blaine's life. 

Once or twice a year he will blow into town and, amidst a storm of promises he inevitably won’t keep, he will turn Blaine's life upside down and inside out before he disappears off to LA again, leaving everyone else to deal with the fallout.

Blaine loves Cooper. He misses Cooper. But it is hard to remember that sometimes when Cooper only ever seems to disappoint him.

"Okay, what's with the sour face, little brother? Anyone else would be dying to get out of those stuffy classrooms for the afternoon," Cooper asks as he inspects one of the complimentary breadsticks warily like he isn’t entirely sure he wants to eat it.

"I'm not _sour_ ," Blaine protests indignantly.

"You are a little," Cooper cuts in, eyeing Blaine’s hands pointedly.

“How am I sour?” Blaine asks, dropping his eyes to where he has his knife and fork gripped tight in both hands before he realizes what he is doing and places them neatly back into their proper place on the table.

“You have that little pouty thing going on,” Cooper replies, reaching across the table to grab Blaine’s chin between his fingers. “The one you get when you’re being sour.”

Blaine rolls his eyes and bats Cooper’s hand away with a flustered huff as their waitress reappears. Cooper smiles sunnily up at her as she sets their plates in front of them, the inevitable return of one of his accents making Blaine sigh as Cooper says, “Cheers.”

She smiles back at him, clearly charmed if the way she winks and mentions something about free drinks before she departs is any indication, and Blaine sighs, unable to stop the smile that crawls across his face.

It is clear that Cooper has noticed as well, his smile stretching a little wider as he says, “Oh, there we go, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

He laughs quietly, ducking his head as he picks up his knife and fork again and methodically starts to pick through his salad as Cooper watches him, nibbling at the end of his breadstick. “So, nobody said anything to me about this Winter Showcase.” 

Blaine takes a bite of his salad, eyes staying fixed on his plate as he chews and pretends to savour the taste before he says, “It’s not really a big deal. The Warblers do an Invitational every year to keep us on our toes between competitions and the ticket sales get donated to charity.”

“Are Mom and Dad going to be there?” Cooper asks, clearly not willing to be brushed off as he continues to peer across the table at him.

“I don’t know,” Blaine says noncommittally, digging his fork into his salad again with a little more force than is strictly necessary, “I think they’re probably working.”

There is silence as he takes another bite of his salad, Cooper eyeing him shrewdly across the table before he asks, “Did you invite them?”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably, swallowing his mouthful before glancing up from his plate to say, “Cooper, they don’t want to come. You know what they’re like.”

“They might surprise you,” Cooper replies, his voice carefully neutral as he finally shifts from his casual lean against the booth to face Blaine entirely. “You’ll never know if you don’t give them a chance.”

“The program has been stuck to the fridge for two weeks,” Blaine says stiffly, setting his knife and fork down on either side of his plate again as he lifts his head to meet Cooper’s eyes directly. “And I’m pretty sure that if they wouldn’t make time to come to an actual competition they aren’t going to for some silly holiday concert, so.”

Cooper holds his hands up in defeat, shrugging as he says, “Alright, alright.”

They fall into silence again, Cooper eyeing Blaine thoughtfully as he chews on the end of his breadstick, clearly weighing up his options before he clears his throat and says, “So are you going to tell me what happened with the boyfriend, already? Mom seemed to think it was getting pretty serious between you two, last time we talked.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Blaine replies, dropping his eyes back to his plate as his hands fall into his lap, shoulders hunching in defensively. 

“Well, what about the hoard of admirers back at school, huh?” Cooper pushes, clearly trying to coax him into conversation. “Anyone special there?”

Blaine shifts uncomfortably in his seat as his arms wrap around his stomach and he looks up briefly through his lashes to ask, "Why are you really here, Coop?"

Cooper’s smile drops and his eyes widen a little, eyebrows hitching upward as he sinks back into his seat to ask, "Do I have to have a reason now to want to visit my baby brother?"

"Generally," Blaine retorts, eyes darting upward again and feeling a pang of guilt when he is met with the stung expression on Cooper’s face.

"Hey," Cooper says, shifting in his seat to face him, staring intently across the table as he searches out Blaine’s eyes, "Hey, little brother, I know that there's an age difference between us, but I really want to be closer to you. I want to get to know you a little better.”

There is something about the sincerity in Cooper’s voice that gives Blaine pause, that makes him glance up to meet his eyes as Cooper adds, “That’s why I’m here.” 

Guilt melts any remaining misgivings Blaine has, his eyes meeting Cooper’s as something a little desperate, the part of him that has always wanted nothing more than to have his brother’s approval, admits, “Yeah, no, I would love that. I’d like that.”

It brings the bright smile back to Cooper’s face and Blaine thinks it even looks a little more genuine, a little less practiced as Cooper says, “Great. So I can still come to your rehearsal this afternoon, right?”

Blaine laughs, rolling his eyes as he looks away, unable to stop the smile that creeps across his face as he says, "Alright, okay, you can come."

“Great,” Cooper replies, beaming back at him. “I can’t wait.”

\--

The senior commons is already buzzing with activity by the time they arrive. 

At this point Blaine is almost positive that Cooper probably shouldn’t just be roaming the school and that he is inevitably going to end up with an angry lecture from someone or the other for taking off in the middle of a school day, but after how rough the last few weeks have been Cooper’s presence is a welcome distraction. It feels nice to focus on something else for a change. Something that isn’t about Kurt.

He hasn’t so much as glanced at his phone since Cooper first arrived.

Blaine is greeted with curious eyes as they enter the senior commons, Cooper’s arm dropping away from his shoulders back to his side as the room grows quiet. Blaine can see Sebastian leaning against the edge of the council’s desk, his head cocked to the side as he watches them approach and Blaine smiles wide as he asks, “Is it okay with everyone if my brother sits in on our rehearsal?”

“After everything I’ve heard about you I could hardly miss seeing a performance,” Cooper adds with a bright smile as he drops down on one of the couches next to Jeff who beams at him. “Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m here.”

\--

Cooper claps appreciatively after Nick finishes “Deck the Halls” and he seems genuinely impressed by the group medley, but they make it all of two verses through the new arrangement of “Winter Wonderland,” Blaine pleased with how smoothly the arrangement fits to his voice, before it becomes clear that things are not going to stay that way.

Blaine forges through, pointedly ignoring his brother’s strange shift in facial expressions until they reach the end of the song and Cooper claps politely, Blaine’s eyes narrowing as he asks, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Cooper replies, eyes widening as he leans back with baffled surprise, “It was a really nice job, Blaine. Really solid.”

“Then why are you giving me the look?” Blaine says, arms crossing over his chest defensively as he hears a few murmurs of bewilderment from behind him. 

“There isn’t a look,” Cooper replies, rolling his eyes a little as if Blaine is being ridiculous before he adds, “I mean, maybe you were a little pitchy on the choruses and your moves lacked a theme, but it was nice.”

“My theme was dancing,” Blaine says flatly, something bitterly disappointed starting to rise up his throat because he _knew_ this was too good to be true.

“You need to really commit to it though,” Cooper continues, pushing off the couch to his feet to cross the room and plant his hands on Blaine’s shoulders. “Have you guys considered making it a duet? You’re better when you have someone to nudge you along a little, Squirt. Blaine and I were famous around the neighbourhood for our duelling Simon Le Bon impressions when we were younger.”

Blaine hears murmurs of amusement from behind him as Cooper releases his shoulders, beaming down at him like he has no idea what he is saying.

“A duet could work,” David speaks up from near the back, sounding thoughtful. “I mean, it’s a little last minute and we’d have to rework the arrangement but I think it could really liven up the setlist, if we’re willing to put the work in.”

There are murmurs of agreement from around him but Blaine can’t bring himself to look over his shoulder at the rest of the group, not with his cheeks burning and the sinking disappointment in his stomach as he stares at Cooper and wonders how he hadn’t seen this coming.

“Sebastian should do it,” Jeff suggests suddenly, “I mean, after all the work they put in to get us through sectionals it would be fitting right? Our two co-captains can close the set with a duet.”

Blaine half expects Sebastian to object or to bow out as he had done with the initial auditions under the excuse that he doesn’t like Christmas music, instead amidst the noises of approval at Jeff’s suggestion he hears Sebastian say, “If Blaine doesn’t mind sharing his solo, I’m game.”

“Of course,” Blaine finds himself saying as he turns away from Cooper back to the group, his smile tight and his eyes stinging as he agrees, “Whatever’s best for the team.”

“Great,” David announces, “I’ll see what I can do with the arrangement tonight and get back to you both tomorrow. Until then, I guess, we’re done.”

Sounds of relief rise up around him as various Warblers disperse to pick up their things and leave, Blaine staying right where he is even as he offers goodbyes and watches Cooper shake hands with a few of his classmates as they go.

Sebastian pauses at his side on his way out, lips curved in a smirk as he says, “I’ll text you about rehearsals. Later, Anderson.”

Blaine watches him go, ignoring the way Cooper raises his eyebrows at him and looks far too amused until the room is empty again and he bites his lip, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his composure before he asks, “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” Cooper asks, taking another step back towards him and tilting his head in confusion at Blaine’s tone.

“ _That_ ,” Blaine says emphatically, hands fluttering frustratedly before he schools them, curling them into fists at his sides and taking a slow breath to steady himself. “You only ever tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Cooper frowns, like he isn’t entirely sure what Blaine is getting at and reaches out to rest his hands on Blaine’s shoulders, his voice light as he says, “Come on Squirt, I was just trying to help you out a little.”

“You telling my entire team how much I suck at _everything_ isn’t helping,” Blaine replies as he tries to shrug Cooper off, that feeling of disappointment and embarrassment welling in his chest.

"You know I didn't mean it like that, little brother," Cooper replies, holding on a little tighter so that Blaine can’t squirm away before he fixes him with a look. “I just thought that you needed a little nudge in the right direction. With the way your friend was looking at you I’d say you just need to be alone in the same room -”

Blaine stares, scowl slowly shifting to confusion as he processes Cooper’s words until he is left staring at Cooper in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Look, I remember what it was like after my first break-up but you can’t wallow forever,” Cooper squeezes his shoulders pointedly. “Besides, your _friend_ was staring at your ass for that entire number, if I wasn’t such an awesome brother I’d be giving him an embarrassing talk right now about treating you right.”

“So let me get this straight,” Blaine says slowly, staring at his brother with growing disbelief, “You told the Warblers I was pitchy and my dancing sucked because you think being duet partners with some guy will help me get over Kurt.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Cooper replies delightedly, beaming down at him before he adds, “Though I wasn’t kidding about the pitchy part. You should really work on that chorus some more.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Blaine huffs, brushing Cooper’s hands off his shoulders and taking a step back to glare up at him. 

“What?” Cooper asks, looking absolutely bewildered by his reaction. “I’m just looking out for my baby brother’s wellbeing. You’ve got Mom and Dad worried, you know. Mom said you haven’t been home to visit for weeks now.”

“I _just_ broke up with my boyfriend of over a year,” Blaine replies incredulously. “And like they’d even notice anyway, Cooper, when I do come home they’re always working. Maybe I just wanted some time to myself.”

“You don’t let anyone help you, Blaine,” Cooper says, “You never have. You always have to deal with everything all by yourself. What’s the harm in singing one Christmas song with a guy who likes you?”

Blaine sighs, curling his arms around his chest as he rocks back on his heels and scowls up at his brother, determinedly ignoring the pointed arch of Cooper’s eyebrows.

“Come on, Blainey. It’s just _one_ little song, what could possibly go wrong?” Cooper wheedles, taking another step forward so that Blaine can’t avoid his eyes and nudging lightly at one shoulder with his knuckles. “You might even have fun.”

“Fine,” Blaine relents, huffing with annoyance as Cooper beams and drags him in for a hug that feels more like a headlock. “But only because I already said yes to the Warblers.”

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” Cooper replies cheerfully. “Now, are you going to show me your dorm or what?”

\--

“So your brother’s kind of a dick.”

Blaine has been bracing himself to face the inevitable storm of questions since Cooper first arrived. Over time he has gotten used to the way that people react to Cooper, how unceremoniously he is shoved into the background the moment his brother puts in an appearance.

Cooper is the handsome one. The famous one. The _straight_ one. Everyone always likes Cooper better.

It doesn’t make it any easier, but Blaine has accepted that is the way it is and probably always will be. Which is why he can’t seem to stop gaping back at Sebastian’s increasingly more amused expression.

When the crinkles start to appear at the corners of Sebastian’s eyes Blaine manages to snap himself out of it, the part of him that is still feeling an intense rush of relief at Sebastian’s words being hurriedly stamped into submission by guilt at enjoying someone saying that about his brother, before he says, “You can hardly talk.”

“Ouch,” Sebastian deadpans, eyebrows arching high as he turns in his seat to better see Blaine’s face, entirely ignoring the way that their English teacher lifts her head to glare a warning at the pair of them. “I’m just saying. I overheard him telling Thad that he shouldn’t go to college and telling Nick that New York is for actors who are too ugly to make it in television and film. He’s a dick. Though I should probably thank him.”

Blaine turns his head to eye Sebastian suspiciously as he asks, “What do you mean?”

The slow smile that spreads across Sebastian’s lips makes Blaine shift uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes dropping down to his notes as he feels his skin start to grow warm. “Lucky for me, your brother’s about as subtle as you are.”

A slow, niggling feeling of impending horror starts to wiggle its way into his chest as he eyes Sebastian sharply, his voice determinedly calm as he asks, “What did he say to you?”

“He just wanted to know if my intentions towards his baby brother were honorable,” Sebastian replies and Blaine can see the barely suppressed laughter swimming behind Sebastian’s eyes.

Blaine is going to _kill_ him.

“He did not say that,” Blaine says firmly, because he is pretty sure that if he denies it hard enough then maybe it didn’t actually happen.

“Oh, he did,” Sebastian assures him brightly. “I think he may have been trying to channel a 1920s gangster at the time. I’m not entirely sure. He was pointing his finger a lot.”

“This isn’t happening,” Blaine tells his hands miserably before he plants his face into them, patently ignoring the muffled laughter from Sebastian’s direction.

“For the record,” Sebastian continues, seemingly enjoying Blaine’s complete misery, “I assured him that my intentions are anything but honorable.”

“You are a terrible human being,” Blaine mutters into his hands.

Sebastian laughs at him, apparently satisfied that he has embarrassed Blaine enough because he lets the subject drop and when Blaine cautiously removes his hands from his face he finds Sebastian just watching him thoughtfully. “So, are we still on for rehearsal this afternoon?”

Trying to muster his composure the best that he can, Blaine takes a breath and schools his face before he says, “Of course. After your lacrosse practice, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian agrees, lightly, lips still curved in that teasing smirk as he adds, “You should let your brother know. Just in case he wants to chaperone.”

“Shut up,” Blaine scoffs, trying not to laugh but his resolve disintegrates when he catches a glimpse of the look on Sebastian’s face.

“Would you two quit flirting?” Trent asks, turning around in his seat to glare back at them. “Some of us are actually trying to concentrate here.”

Blaine opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by the pointed glare Trent levels at him, the one that tells him he is in no way going to win that argument, so he lowers his eyes back to his notes with an apologetic shrug, dutifully ignoring Sebastian’s badly contained snort of laughter.

Trent glares at them for a little longer, like it might serve to ensure his message has been heard, before turning back around in his seat with a soft huff of annoyance. Blaine lasts all of two minutes of staring intently down at his notes before he glances over at Sebastian from the corner of his eye, biting back a grin when he finds that Sebastian is looking back at him.

Maybe Cooper isn’t completely wrong after all.

\--

If he wanted to, Blaine could probably find a dozen ways to justify deciding to meet Sebastian at the lacrosse fields that afternoon instead of in the senior commons as they had planned. He could say it has something to do with the pile of finished homework or feeling cooped up in his empty dorm or even just the complete lack of anything better to do, but he doesn’t think he would be kidding anyone.

Least of all himself.

What finds him dropping down into the stands to watch the tail-end of another lacrosse practice, burying his nose deep into the folds of his scarf and jamming his gloved hands into his pockets, has nothing at all to do with a sudden revelation about the appeal of lacrosse as a sport as much as the sudden and ridiculous itch to just _see_ Sebastian - and he honestly doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t know how to feel about Sebastian.

From what James has let slip recently, most of the lacrosse team already seem to think that he and Sebastian are either dating or hooking up. If anything, he figures the rumors can’t actually get much worse than that.

By the time the coach calls an end to practice Blaine has been spotted in his perch by almost the entire team and heads are periodically craning in his direction in what he suspects is first curiosity and then amusement. James waves at him first, distinguishable only by the vivid yellow gloves Blaine recognizes from the pile usually sitting in the corner of their dorm, but it doesn’t take long for pointed nudges from his teammates to draw Sebastian’s attention to him.

It is strange how easy it is for him to pick Sebastian out of the group; how he instinctively knows that he isn’t quite the tallest on the team and that the pads add a certain amount of bulk to his lean frame. Blaine can pick him out by the way he moves, familiar after the long dance rehearsals in the lead up to Sectionals and Sebastian pushing into his space to correct an errant move.

He knows exactly who it is long before Sebastian drags the helmet off of his head and starts to cross the field towards him, waving off the ribbing of his teammates with an amused smile before he climbs the stands to drop down next to Blaine, eyebrows raised as he asks, “Enough layers there, Anderson?”

“It’s winter,” Blaine replies through his scarf. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s actually pretty cold out here.”

“So why are you waiting in the cold then?” Sebastian asks, his face remaining entirely neutral as he shifts a little closer until his arm is pressed against Blaine’s, his pads digging into the thick wool of Blaine’s coat. “I thought we were meeting inside.”

“I got bored,” Blaine replies, glancing over and rolling his eyes when he sees the slow smile that is spreading across Sebastian’s lips.

"So you didn't just come to admire the view then?" Sebastian teases, nudging his arm into Blaine’s and receiving an amused snort and a nudge in return.

“That would require a view worth looking at,” Blaine replies playfully, glancing over through his eyelashes with the slightest curve of his lips.

There is a loud scoff of amusement as Sebastian cranes his head around to look at him, “Harsh, Anderson. What, have you gotten tired of all the preppies around here? Broken too many hearts already?”

Blaine’s smile slips a little but he forces out a laugh and deflects with a shrug as he says, “Anyone would think you were trying to put off this rehearsal.”

Sebastian seems to realize he has struck a nerve, letting the subject drop with a thoughtful expression on his face as he replies, “Alright, alright. Just let me go change.”

The smirk resurfaces briefly and Sebastian looks like he is considering saying something else that Blaine isn’t entirely sure he wants to hear, so he laughs and shoves at Sebastian’s arm as he says, “ _Go._ ”

“Bossy,” Sebastian says as he pushes back to his feet and shoots Blaine an amused look over his shoulder as he walks away, “It’s kind of sexy, Anderson.”

And, despite any claims that could be made to the contrary, the idea that Sebastian might think he is _sexy_ is definitely not the reason why Blaine feels suddenly, inexplicably warm.

\--

“We can do better than this,” Sebastian declares as he flops back onto one of the sofas in the senior commons, grimacing up at the ceiling.

Blaine is pretty sure that Sebastian has to be exhausted by now. They have run through the original choreography for “Winter Wonderland” three times already, trying to to account for an extra lead but nothing they have tried seems to be sticking. Blaine is starting to wonder, from the borderline pained expression on Sebastian’s face, if he even wants it to.

"We could work on the vocals," Blaine suggests as he sinks down onto the edge of the sofa opposite, trying to keep his enthusiasm tuned high in the face of Sebastian’s apparent disgruntlement.

Sebastian’s eyes follow him to the couch, his lips twisting further in distaste, before he says, "I really don't like Christmas music."

Blaine laughs outright, grinning when it all it does is causes Sebastian to scowl harder, before he asks, "Why did you agree to sing a duet with me then?"

"Who could pass up an opportunity to sing with the Blaine Anderson?" Sebastian teases, eyebrows arched high as he rolls his head towards Blaine to smirk over at him.

"Shut up," Blaine laughs, throwing his bundled scarf in Sebastian's direction and rolling his eyes when he simply lifts his hand to catch it.

One benefit, Blaine supposes, of all that lacrosse training.

"A solo's a solo," Sebastian replies with a shrug, lips twitching when he adds, "Even if it does mean singing along to the world’s most tragic holiday songs."

"You are such a grinch," Blaine says, lips curling wider as he tips his head to better meet Sebastian’s eyes. "I don’t understand how anyone could not like Christmas music."

“It’s commercialized religion,” Sebastian replies with a wrinkle of his nose. “I don’t pretend to care about it during the rest of the year, why should it be any different during December?”

“Not all of it,” Blaine points out. “Besides, ‘Winter Wonderland’ is a seasonal song. Not a Christmas song.”

“Cute,” Sebastian replies as he rolls to his feet, threading Blaine’s scarf between his fingers and watching him thoughtfully before he crosses the few steps between their couches.

Blaine watches him warily as Sebastian drapes his scarf back around his neck, eyebrows raised as he says, “Well, Anderson? Are we going to work on this or not?”

\--

The sound of the audience carries backstage; the soft murmur of people making their way to their seats and chatting with their neighbours muffled only by the curtains. It is exciting, in it’s own way. A reminder of what has yet to come.

Blaine usually likes this part.

There is something about the building anticipation before a performance - the electric buzz that fizzes beneath his skin; that jitter of excitement before it all comes together - that Blaine has always looked forward to. He loves it - lives for it, even, - because he knows what comes after. The thrill of the stage is like nothing else he has ever experienced. It is the only place in the world where he ever feels like he is truly himself.

Which is why he can’t quite understand what is happening. 

Cooper is out there somewhere, finding his seat in the audience amidst a mix of parents and teachers and Dalton alumni, and Blaine doesn’t know why, but it terrifies him. He just wants to be good enough.

His usual well-honed rituals are failing him. Instead Blaine finds himself standing backstage with his fingers curled tight around the edge of his phone, just waiting for the text to arrive that tells him Cooper got held up and can’t make it or that he just remembered he has something more important to do. Everyone always does.

It has been a long time since Blaine has felt uncertain in the face of a performance. Like there is more riding on this than him walking out on that stage and doing what comes most naturally to him. But it is also the first time in a very long time that anybody from his family has promised to be in the audience. He can’t help but feel like something is about to go terribly wrong.

“Hey, are you alright?”

It takes a moment to realize that Nick is talking to him, Blaine’s eyes widening with surprise as he turns to meet the concerned expression on Nick’s face. His voice is so utterly unconvincing, even to his own ears, that he almost feels bad about it as he says, “I’m fine. I’m just -”

He gestures vaguely, like that might explain the strange implosion of nerves that he can’t quite crawl out of, and Nick tilts his head slowly as he asks, “Are you sure? Because you look kind of freaked out.”

Blaine shakes his head hurriedly, smoothing his tie and the lapels of his blazer like that could soothe his nerves before he insists, “I’m fine. It’s just kind of weird having Cooper here, you know?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous for a performance before.” Nick says, looking just a little bit thrown before his lips twitch and he adds, “Well, except for that one time you made us serenade that guy at the -”

“Shut up,” Blaine cuts him off immediately, cheeks burning as he ducks his head because he still counts that day as the most mortifying experience of his life.

He had once hidden behind a potted plant in the mall for ten minutes straight because he thought he had seen Jeremiah coming towards him from the opposite direction.

“I’m just saying, even if you do mess up tonight, nothing will ever be as embarrassing as the time you got that guy fired from the Gap,” Nick says, clapping a hand to his shoulder and grinning when Blaine glowers up at him.

“You are _terrible_ at giving pep talks,” Blaine informs him with a begrudging smile as he tugs at the hem of his blazer again.

“Hey, it worked didn’t it?” Nick replies, shrugging as he leans back against the wall next to Blaine, “You don’t look like you’re about to puke all over my shoes anymore.”

The protest dies on Blaine’s lips the moment he sees Jeff hurrying towards them, his suspicions rising at the sight of the panicked expression on his face before Jeff skids to a halt in front of them and breathlessly gasps, “Blaine, you need to get out there. Some of the New Directions have shown up and Sebastian is -”

Blaine doesn’t wait for the rest of the sentence, heading straight for the door with Nick and Jeff on his heels. He isn’t entirely sure he wants to know what Sebastian is doing or why the New Directions might have made a trip to Dalton but he doesn’t really get a choice.

It has to be Kurt. He knows it has to be Kurt. 

Maybe Kurt has come to try and mend the damage that has been done to their relationship. Maybe they can work things out, this time around.

The voices can be heard before he even sees them, echoing down the hall as they turn they corner and then there they are; a group of three standing away from the auditorium doors with Sebastian poised in front of them, chin tipped up and arms folded across his chest. Finn stands at the back, one hand resting on Kurt’s shoulder as if to hold him back, while his other arm is threaded through Rachel’s. All three of them are so busy glaring at Sebastian they don’t even notice Blaine’s arrival, but he only catches the tail-end of Sebastian’s sneered, “- And you’ll have khakis and a Lima Bean apron and that -” before he cuts in.

“What’s going on?”

Blaine thinks that nothing could have prepared him for seeing Kurt again so unexpectedly, but the anger on his face as he turns around still comes as a shock to his system. It takes a moment to shake off the way that his chest clenches uncomfortably and when he finally looks away it is to find Sebastian’s eyes where he has stepped in to stand beside him.

“I found them trying to sneak in to the show without tickets,” Sebastian says when he notices Blaine’s stare, the sneering smile that Blaine had seen only a moment ago quickly replaced by something more measured.

“We thought we should return the favor after you sent spies to watch us at Sectionals,” Finn accuses, glaring right at Blaine like he is certain that he is responsible.

Sebastian scoffs loudly, like he finds the accusation funny, and before Blaine can open his mouth to protest, he is saying, “Sectionals are open admission in case you’ve forgotten, genius. We didn’t exactly have to don camouflage and crawl our way in. It’s not our fault you were too dumb to pass up the opportunity to check out your competition when you had the chance, we even invited you to see us, didn’t we Kurt?”

Something sharp and angry crosses Kurt’s face, his eyes narrowing to a glare and Blaine looks down, fingers clenching at his sides to ward off the sting that memory still holds as he tries to resist the urge to check his phone. 

“That was before we realized the Warblers are full of snakes like you,” Rachel snaps, glaring up at Sebastian angrily before turning towards him instead, “I can’t believe you would do that to us, Blaine. I thought we were friends.”

“Oh, you can’t give Blaine the credit for that,” Sebastian replies with a brilliant flash of his teeth, dropping a hand on to Blaine’s shoulder as he does so.

Blaine can practically feel the eyes that attach to that single point of contact and he swallows sharply, eyes snapping upwards as he cuts in with a polite, distant smile, “We have a show to get ready for. I think there are still some tickets for sale, you should ask at the door.”

The bewildered expressions on Nick and Jeff’s faces as he turns around barely register as he forces himself to walk away. He can hear Sebastian saying, “Enjoy the show,” as he leaves before there are footsteps hurrying to catch up with him.

Nick appears at his side, looking wide-eyed and contrite as he says, “We didn’t tell you that we went because we didn’t want to upset you, you know? Sebastian just wanted to see who we would be facing at Regionals. We weren’t trying to steal their ideas or anything.”

“I know,” Blaine replies quietly, “I get it. Can we just go warm up now?”

“Are you okay?” Jeff asks cautiously, “Kurt didn’t even -”

 _Talk_ to him. _Look_ at him.

“I’m fine,” Blaine insists, not sure he wants to hear the end of that sentence because there are enough possibilities spinning around in his head without the added help. 

Blaine schools his face as they push through the doors leading backstage, summoning a brittle smile from nowhere and ignoring the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on him. 

Instead he looks around at the confused expressions of the rest of the Warblers and announces, “Alright guys, let's get this show over with.”

–

Sebastian catches his arm as they are about to head onto the stage, his voice dropped low as he steps in closer to say, “Don't let them get to you.”

“I’m not,” Blaine replies stiffly, quelling the urge to scowl back at him because this isn’t Sebastian’s fault.

Not really.

Blaine is the reason they are here.

“Are you sure about that?” Sebastian asks, eyes dipping down to meet Blaine’s. “You seem distracted.”

“I just - didn’t expect him to be here,” Blaine says, looking away and taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you went to see them at Sectionals?”

There is something far too amused in the way Sebastian looks at him, tilting his head curiously to the side like he is trying to figure Blaine out, before he says, “Because I thought you’d react like this. Come on Blaine, there’s nothing wrong with checking out the competition. It’s called being prepared.”

Blaine takes a deep breath and laughs to himself at how ridiculous he is being, forcing a wide stage smile onto his face as he says, “I know. I get it. They just seemed so angry about it.”

Sebastian leans further into Blaine’s personal space, smiling at the way Blaine’s breath catches in his throat, before he says, “They’re just trying to get under your skin, Anderson.”

Warmth sparks in the path of Sebastian’s hand as he adjusts the lapels of Blaine’s blazer, his eyes dipping low and then up again before he smiles wider and says, “Maybe we should show them the real reason they should be worried about Regionals.”

\-- 

The moment he walks on stage, all of Blaine’s concerns fall away.

This is what he loves more than anything; the rush of the stage and the voices that soar around him. Their setlist goes off without a hitch and Blaine thinks that the Warblers have never sounded better or felt more like a cohesive and wonderful team.

By the time they finally reach the closing duet, Blaine has almost forgotten the drama that had preceded the show, his smile blinding as they launch into “Winter Wonderland.” 

It isn’t as polished as it could be but there is something almost electric in the way it all comes together, unpredictable and exciting for the newness of it all. Even the reluctant, ironic twist to Sebastian’s lips slips away as they fly through the choreography they had spent the last week trying to perfect. 

And it may just be a silly holiday song, not romantic in the least, but by the end of the song they are facing each other, closer than Blaine or their choreography had accounted for, and for a moment Blaine thinks it looks like Sebastian is going to reach out for him. Their eyes lock together in the moments before the audience launches into applause and Blaine looks away to acknowledge them.

When he looks he sees Cooper in the front row, something stupidly warm filling his chest as he catches sight of his brother getting to his feet to applaud, the smile on his face stretching so wide that he can feel his cheeks ache.

\--

Most of the audience has already departed by the time Blaine emerges from backstage to look for Cooper, the high of the performance fizzing in his bloodstream as he surveys the room in search of him.

He has just caught sight of him, happily chatting away in the middle of a group, when he hears a clearing of someone’s throat off to his side. He looks over to find Kurt standing a few feet away, Rachel and Finn frowning at him from a distance and Blaine doesn’t know what to make of the carefully neutral expression on Kurt’s face, but he doesn’t sound entirely hostile as he asks, “Can I talk to you?”

Blaine glances again in Cooper’s direction, finds that he is still busy talking and curls his arms around his chest as he agrees, “Yeah, okay.”

Kurt takes another step towards him and it is clear that he has dressed to impress, his outfit all sharp angles and dark colors and the extra inch of height that his Doc Martens afford him. Blaine knows him well enough to know that this is Kurt’s version of armor, right down to the smidgen of extra height his boots give him.

“You were good,” Kurt says after a moment, his fingers twisting together in front of him as he eyes Blaine cautiously.

“Thank you,” Blaine replies, fingers curling around his elbows as he smiles hesitantly, “We’ve worked hard this year.”

Blaine doesn’t know what to make of the way Kurt tilts his head, lips pressed in a hard line before he asks, with what he suspects is an attempt at being casual, “So you sing duets with just anyone now, then?”

It takes a moment for the accusation to sink in, Blaine’s eyes narrowing in a frown as his chin jerks upward and he straightens his spine, “I didn’t exactly know you were going to be here, Kurt. It was just a song.”

There is a moment of silence where Kurt just stares at him, eyes hard before he says, “Just, tell me honestly, did you break up with me so you could be with Sebastian?”

“No,” Blaine replies immediately, as he feels the buzz of the performance draining steadily away and Kurt continues to watch him.

“Did you cheat on me with him?” Kurt presses on, his hands clenched at his sides and betrayal swimming behind his eyes.

“No, Kurt, I already told you,” Blaine says, his shoulders drawing up and he resists the urge to step back. “Why are you asking me this now?”

“You think I haven’t heard things?” Kurt laughs back, though it doesn’t sound particularly happy at all, his eyes bright with suppressed tears. “Mike has a cousin who goes to Dalton, you know. He’s on the lacrosse team.”

“They’re just rumors, Kurt,” Blaine replies tiredly, “I didn’t break up with you because of Sebastian.” 

“Really? Because it sure seems like you did,” Kurt says with a disbelieving laugh, “Rumors have to start from somewhere, Blaine.”

The urge to walk away, to just not deal with this, is overwhelming; his fingernails digging hard into his palms as the last of his good mood slips away and suddenly everything feels that much worse. 

“Do you realize that this is the first time you’ve driven out to Dalton this year?” Blaine asks after a moment of just staring back at him, bitterness seeping into his voice as he draws his arms tighter around himself and realizes that Kurt really has no idea why they had broken up. 

“I was busy,” Kurt protests. “You know how busy I was, Blaine.”

“But you weren’t too busy to show up, uninvited, to try and crash a charity show?” Blaine replies, looking away as his eyes burn with frustration. He’s tired of inventing excuses for Kurt in his head, for making the apologies that Kurt can’t ever seem to voice himself.

Blaine takes a deep, slow breath and pinches at the side of his arm in an attempt to shake it off before saying as calmly as he can, “You know what, you’ve already ruined my night. Can you just go?”

Kurt stares back at him in disbelief, eyes welling with tears as he says, “That isn’t fair, Blaine. Your teammates spied on us first.”

“And you didn’t care enough to show up when you _were_ invited,” Blaine replies bitterly, taking another step back and glancing away, searching for Cooper’s face and sighing with relief at the sight of his brother’s face staring right back at him.

It is almost like Cooper is entirely oblivious to the tension that surrounds them because he walks straight through it, his face frozen around a smile as he throws an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and says, “There you are, little brother.”

Blaine exhales slowly, relief settling over him as he sways into Cooper’s side and determinedly doesn’t look at where Kurt is still refusing to budge, his eyes stinging a little as he says, “Hey Coop.”

“Nice job up there, little brother,” Cooper adds, ruffling at his hair affectionately before grimacing as he is forced to wipe his hand off on his shirt. “And who is this?”

Blaine is pretty sure that Cooper knows exactly who it is, but Kurt is still just staring at him with that indecipherable mix of hurt and betrayal, so he says, “This is Kurt.”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt,” Cooper replies amiably, though the smile he offers seems a little sharp around the edges. “Well it’s getting late. I should get going, little brother. Walk me out to the car?”

Blaine just nods, letting Cooper guide him away with an arm around his shoulders, relief settling over him as they leave the lobby behind. 

“So that’s the Ex, huh?” Cooper surmises after a moment, his voice carefully neutral as they walk through the empty entryway and out into the night, the cold sinking in through Blaine’s blazer almost immediately.

“That’s Kurt,” Blaine agrees, pretending not to notice when Cooper tucks him in a little closer to his side. 

“He seems interesting,” Cooper replies in that same, ambiguous tone of voice that makes Blaine roll his eyes a little.

“He’s just angry,” Blaine says quietly, the sinking feeling in his stomach soothing a little now that he is away from the accusations in Kurt’s eyes.

Cooper glances down at him, squeezing him in against his side a little tighter as he says, “Whatever you say, little brother.”

It is dark enough outside that Blaine doesn’t feel bad about rolling his eyes, the arm that is locked around Cooper’s back shifting a little. As much as he had meant everything he had said to Kurt, he wishes now that he hadn’t said it.

They wander through the parking lot in comfortable silence, Blaine watching his breath curl away in mist through the cold, clear night as they reach Cooper’s rental car and pause beside it. There is a moment where Cooper watches him carefully while Blaine ducks his head and tries not to notice, before he is opening up his arms and closing the gap between them, wrapping Blaine up in a hug that he needs more than he would ever admit.

Cooper holds on long after Blaine expects him to let go, Blaine burying his face in his shoulder and trying to keep his breathing steady when Cooper announces, “Your moves were sloppy and your harmonies needed more work.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, planting his hands on Cooper’s chest to push him back as he says, “We were fantastic.”

“Of course you were,” Cooper agrees indignantly, hands resting on Blaine’s shoulders as he watches him with a fond smile. “Mom and Dad have no idea what they’re missing, kid.”

It catches him by surprise, the half-smile freezing on his face as a response falters on his tongue and Cooper squeezes at his shoulders, smiling a little knowingly before he lets go, his eyebrows raising as he says, “So what did I tell you, Blainey? You looked like you were having fun up there.”

There is something far too innocent in the way Cooper looks at him, eyebrows raised skeptically when Blaine replies, “We’re just friends.”

“Well, whatever your Ex might say, you have no reason to feel guilty if you weren’t,” Cooper replies, shrugging as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, little brother. Don’t be too late, it’ll be our first real family dinner together for ages.”

“Right,” Blaine agrees, dragging the backs of his knuckles discreetly beneath his eyes and watching as Cooper climbs into the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cooper waves through the window after he has buckled his seatbelt, Blaine taking another step back as the car starts. He watches until Cooper’s taillights have disappeared into the night, jamming his hands deep into his pockets as he turns to head back to the building, wondering if he can get away with heading straight to the dorms to avoid running into Kurt again.

The cold is more noticeable without Cooper draped over him and he is already starting to shiver when he hears the voice call out to him. “Anderson!”

He jerks around to see Sebastian leaning against the driver’s side door of his car, a long tall shadow wrapped in a thick coat to ward off the cold. It is dark enough that Blaine can’t make out the expression on Sebastian’s face as he moves towards him, the glow of a streetlight highlighting the edge of his profile as he reaches Sebastian’s car. 

“I thought that was you,” Sebastian says after a moment.

“Hey,” Blaine replies belatedly, as he hesitates by the trunk, his palm skimming over the cool metal as he comes to a halt. “I thought you’d already be gone.”

“I forgot there was something else I needed to do,” Sebastian replies with a shrug, head tilting to the side as he says, “Come here.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow at the command, laughing beneath his breath as he asks, “Why, what do you want?”

He can practically feel the eyeroll Sebastian gives in response, watching as he pushes off the side of his car to close the distance between them himself, following his progress until Sebastian is standing right in front of him. It feels like something is itching beneath his skin as Sebastian just stares down at him, the echo of his heartbeat pounding in his ears for no reason he can determine when Sebastian reaches up, the back of his knuckles skimming lightly down Blaine’s cheek, following the line of his jaw until they reach his chin and tip it up.

There is barely a moment for Blaine to realize exactly what he is doing, when he meets Sebastian’s eyes before he is leaning in, hand sliding around the back of Blaine’s neck to guide him up to meet him. Blaine inhales sharply around the press of Sebastian’s mouth against his, relaxing piece by piece as Sebastian coaxes his lips into moving against his own.

A hand rubs over his hip, warm through the thin fabric of his button-up, before sliding around to press into the small of his back, dragging him closer into Sebastian’s solid warmth as he gasps around the drag of Sebastian’s teeth against his lower lip. 

He can hear a soft hum of something beneath Sebastian’s breath as he crowds Blaine backwards, the thump of his spine against the edge of the car soft and dull beneath the the wet slide of their lips; obscene in the still, silence of the night. It’s fast, so fast Blaine hardly knows what he is doing, as Sebastian’s hands settle over the dip of his waist and he presses Blaine back into the cool metal. 

Blaine’s fingers slide up to curl into the lapels of Sebastian’s coat, clutching hard at the soft wool and tugging Sebastian in closer, the niggling whisper that wants to know what this means or why now silenced as he pushes back into the kiss. He really hasn’t allowed himself to think about this; not in any way that he would admit to, at least. Sebastian has been strictly off limits, a fantasy that lurked vague and only half-formed in the very back of his thoughts when he let his mind drift or was replayed in half-remembered dreams.

Until recently at least.

Whatever the fantasy might have been, the reality is something else entirely.

There is something demanding in the squeeze of Sebastian’s hands at his waist, the way Blaine can feel him smirk against his lips when Blaine tugs at his coat. It feels like a challenge, the sting of teeth when Sebastian pulls back a little, his breath forming like ghosts in the dark and as Blaine’s eyes flutter open, training upwards to see the intent look in Sebastian’s eyes.

“I knew you wanted me,” Sebastian says after a moment, sounding so smug that Blaine almost wants to hit him. 

“How do you know that?” Blaine asks, rolling his eyes but failing to stop the slightly goofy smile that keeps tugging at the corners of his lips from betraying him. “Maybe I just felt like kissing you.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows arch upwards, lips curving further into something a little more challenging as he says, “Because I know you.”

Something surges in his chest as Sebastian ducks forward again, pressing kisses to the corner of his mouth, the hinge of his jaw, light and suspiciously sweet as he laughs against Blaine’s skin, saying, “You’re a good boy, Blaine Anderson. It makes you very transparent.”

The startled hum that escapes the back of his throat as Sebastian’s mouth closes over the skin of his jaw, worrying it gently before Blaine feels the light scrape of teeth and the slick trail of his tongue that follows immediately after, is loud in the still of the night. 

“I’m not that good,” Blaine replies quietly, ignoring the damp heat of Sebastian’s breath against his throat as he laughs again. 

Sebastian’s hands squeeze at his waist again as he draws back to look down at Blaine, his face entirely unreadable in the dim light as he says, “Sometimes I think you’re a little too good.”

Before Blaine can ask him what that is supposed to mean Sebastian is drawing back, stuffing his hands into his pockets and Blaine has to force his fingers to uncurl from the lapels of his coat, the cold seeping into the space between them as Blaine wraps his arms around himself for the lack of anything else to hold onto. Sebastian is still eyeing him thoughtfully, like he is trying to determine his next move, when Blaine says, “It’s getting late.”

“Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble,” Sebastian replies, a twist of something teasing in his voice as he steps back again and Blaine frowns back at him.

“Funny,” Blaine scoffs, stepping away from the car and jerking his chin upwards, doing his best to ignore the way that draws a smirk back to Sebastian’s lips as he rubs at his arms to try and ward off the cold. 

“Cute,” Sebastian retorts, reaching out to tip a finger beneath his chin and receiving a scowl of response as Blaine swats his hand away. There is a moment afterwards as he just watches Blaine, head tipping to the side and his lips curving before he asks, “So, tell me, are we going to pretend that never happened, Anderson?” 

Blaine stares back at him in surprise, chin tilted determinedly up and trying not to acknowledge the flutter of something like nerves or hope in his chest as he says, “Why would we do that?” 

“Good,” Sebastian says, lips twisting into something a little smug as he takes another step closer and adds. “Because it would be a shame to have to try and forget that.”

“Good,” Blaine repeats, teasing just a little and not resisting the smile that crawls wide across his lips because he likes this feeling, the breathless warmth in his chest, and not feeling like his entire night has been ruined by show choir politics or the realization that maybe things aren’t quite as settled between he and Kurt as he had thought.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Sebastian replies, reaching up to unloop the scarf from around his neck before he settles it around Blaine’s, tipping his head in consideration as he says, “It’s cold out here.”

He can’t even bite back the smile of response, his eyes dipping away as he agrees, “Tomorrow.”

By the time Blaine makes it back to his dorm, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his nose tucked into the folds of Sebastian’s scarf, still warm and smelling like his cologne, he almost feels warm in spite of the cold. The smile on his face is ridiculous, so wide it almost hurts, but he can’t seem to stop himself no matter how much he tries to school his expression.

Not even James’s raised eyebrows and his knowing declaration of, “Nice scarf,” is enough to shake Blaine’s good mood.

Blaine merely smiles sunnily back at him as he unwinds it from his neck and drapes it over the back of their desk chair, saying, “You should have come along, we killed it tonight.”

He gets only a snort of response, James eyeing him over the top of his Sports Illustrated, flicking to another page absently before he adds, “Nice hickey.”

\--

“ _You_ ,” Blaine accuses, ignoring the broadening smirk on Sebastian’s face as he stalks him down the hall the next morning, a finger raised to jab him hard in the center of the chest when he reaches him. “You are such a jerk. I have to have dinner with Cooper and my parents tonight.”

“I don’t know,” Sebastian replies, tilting his head as if to admire the deep purple, painfully obvious splotch beneath Blaine’s jawline. “I think it’s your color.”

Blaine traces his fingers over the mark, prominent and, given its location, almost impossible to hide and scowls back at him. He has already seen the smirks on more faces than he wishes to remember and right now he is tempted to give Sebastian a mark of his own.

“So when you asked if we were going to forget about last night?” Blaine asks, trailing off with a skeptical glower for good measure.

“I was being polite,” Sebastian replies, in far too good a mood considering. He steps into Blaine’s space, fingers reaching up to trace his jawline thoughtfully, ghosting over the mark he had made with obvious smugness. “No way was I letting you off that easy.”

From the corner of his eye Blaine can see other students turning their heads as they walk past, the curious and uncertain expressions filtering through the background making him shift uncomfortably and level a frown up at Sebastian, “Funny.”

Sebastian tips his chin up, dragging his thumb thoughtfully over the mark itself before he adds, “You’re about as intimidating as a Disney character, Blaine. It’s cute that you try.”

Blaine raises a finger to jab at his chest again, eyes narrowed as he says, “I am not - it’s not - I’m not _cute._ ”

The distinctly amused twitch of Sebastian’s lips as he throws his hands up in mock defeat only serves to make Blaine scowl harder. The itch of annoyance that he has been holding onto since discovering the steadily darkening hickey last night starting to fade into something resigned as he glowers up at Sebastian.

“Would you prefer sexy?” Sebastian asks, taking another step into Blaine’s space and not even attempting to hide the quirk of his lips when Blaine’s head tips back to keep meeting his eyes. “Hot?”

“Shut up,” Blaine scoffs, ignoring the heat that is starting to pool beneath his skin as Sebastian’s smile curves wider and he moves closer again, hands settling over Blaine’s hips without even a trace of hesitation. 

There is a scoff of laughter before Sebastian leans forward, Blaine tilting his head back automatically to meet him in a kiss, something strangely light filling his chest at the realization that Sebastian doesn’t even seem to notice the people walking past them; doesn’t seem bothered by the idea of kissing him right here because he simply wants to.

This should be awkward. He remembers how difficult it had been, summoning up the courage to approach Kurt again after their first kiss; working out how to be around each other without blushing or looking away or figuring out when the right moment to try and kiss him again was. Sebastian doesn’t seem to have any of the same hang-ups, or if he does, he hides them well.

It doesn’t last long, cut off by a far too loud catcall and someone else yelling at them to _get a room_ as they pass, but Blaine is a little dazed and warm as they pull apart, the flustered smile on his face so wide he can’t even bring himself to care that this will be all over the school within the hour.

There is something kind of thrilling (kind of scary) about the fact that Sebastian will kiss him in a crowded corridor without even a second thought.

Sebastian eyes him thoughtfully, hands leaving Blaine’s sides to tug lightly on the scarf that Blaine has looped around his neck, lips twitching as he says, “Nice scarf.”

“I was looking for you to give it back, actually,” Blaine replies, his hands reaching up as if to unwind it from his neck before Sebastian grabs them.

“Keep it,” Sebastian says after a moment, fingers dropping away from Blaine’s as he takes a step back. “Consider it a Christmas present.”

“I thought you didn’t like Christmas,” Blaine replies, eyebrows raised into something teasing as he reaches up to tug his satchel back onto his shoulder where it had been starting to slide down his arm. “Commercialized religion, right?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “Consider it an apology then.”

Blaine grins, tilting his head a little to get Sebastian to follow as he starts down the hallway, glancing curiously to his side as Sebastian falls into step with him and asking, “You? Apologizing?”

The incredulous tone of his voice has Sebastian rolling his eyes in response, “You’re still mad about the hickey aren’t you?”

“What gave you that impression?” Blaine asks, eyes wide with faux surprise, enough so that Sebastian scoffs out a laugh.

“Just keep the scarf, Blaine,” Sebastian says, lips twitching further into a more familiar smirk. “It suits you.”

“Fine,” Blaine laughs in response, sliding the smooth material through his fingers as he rolls his eyes, ducking his chin to smile to himself before he adds, “Thank you, Sebastian.”

\--

Lunchtime finds him seated at a table full of smirks and pointed looks around the discussion of last night’s performances, Blaine glaring when Jeff keeps trying to stifle his laughter behind his fist. It lasts up until Sebastian slides into the seat next to him, waving a hand absently in the direction of the table where the lacrosse team is seated. 

“So, are we going to talk about the giant hickey on Blaine’s neck?” Trent pipes up suddenly. _Loudly._

“No,” Blaine replies darkly, shooting a pointed look in Sebastian’s direction at the smirk that has predictably appeared on his face.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Sebastian replies, turning in his seat to face Blaine. 

“Does it have anything to do with why you were making out with Sebastian in the History wing this morning?” Nick pipes in. 

Blaine closes his eyes, resisting the urge to cover his face and takes a long, deep breath before looking directly at Nick and saying, calmly, “I was not making out with Sebastian in the History wing this morning.”

“Not even a hint of tongue,” Sebastian agrees lightly. “If it helps I can demonstrate the difference -”

“Shut up,” Blaine mutters, willing the far too obvious blush to retreat as he feels the eyes of his fellow Warblers turning towards them. 

“So it’s true then,” Jeff says, beaming far too wide for someone without any vested interest in the subject. 

“Does this mean we don’t have to put up with the gross amounts of flirting in the middle of class now?” Trent asks in the same, loud, tone of voice. “Because I could celebrate that.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Sebastian says before he takes a sip from his water bottle and glances over at Blaine from the corner of his eye. “Do you have any idea what he’s talking about, Anderson?”

“None whatsoever,” Blaine replies, feeling a little relieved when he catches Sebastian’s eye and has to bite his cheek to try and stem the smile that tries to cross his face. “So we sounded good last night, right? I think for Regionals we’re going to need to push ourselves even harder though.”

There is a loud groan from Jeff’s direction and Blaine smiles broadly across at him, adding a cheerful, “It’s _never_ too early to start preparing for the next competition, right Co-Captain?”

He glances over at Sebastian expectantly, eyebrow quirking upwards as Sebastian stares back at him, clearly trying to stifle his amusement before he replies, “I couldn’t agree more.”

And Blaine may not know exactly what he and Sebastian are, or what they might become, but as he grins back at Sebastian and watches the other Warblers exchange mildly terrified looks, he knows that he hasn’t felt this happy in months.

\--

There is a heaviness in the air that warns of impending snow, the sky a deep, still grey that has had Blaine hurrying to pack up his things to get home before it starts. Blaine is bulked down with three overstuffed bags, his scarf keeps getting tangled in the straps and he is just hoping to make it across the parking lot to his car without accidentally choking himself when a hand catches his arm and he hears an amused, “You alright there, killer?”

Blaine turns his head, smiling when he catches Sebastian’s eyes and asks, “What are you still doing here?”

“Lacrosse practice,” Sebastian reminds him, indicating the gym bag he has slung over his shoulder before he asks, “Coach let us go early. You need some help with that?”

“Thanks,” Blaine replies gratefully as Sebastian takes one of the bags, hoisting it over his free shoulder as they continue on across the parking lot.

Blaine glances down at his feet, then up again, trying to catch a glimpse of Sebastian from the corner of his eye without making it obvious that is what he is doing before he asks, “So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Sebastian glances over at him, apparently amused by the question as he says, “I’ll probably get dragged to my grandparents house for the annual family dinner if Dad doesn’t get stuck at work. That was one benefit of living in Paris.”

“You really don’t like Christmas,” Blaine says in wonder, smiling up at him and trying to adjust the straps across his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

“Really,” Sebastian agrees. “At least I won’t be bored. When I was eleven my Aunt Caroline asked for a divorce while we were still at the dinner table.”

“You’re actually serious,” Blaine says, eyes wide with surprise as he turns to stare.

Sebastian shrugs, lips curved in that same half-smile as he says, “It was while we were waiting for dessert to be served. She tried to throw her champagne in her husband’s face and hit Uncle Christian’s girlfriend instead.”

Blaine gapes at him, startled into laughing when he realizes how ridiculous he must look before he glances away, eyes drifting down again before he says, “I think the worst Christmas we ever had was the time I accidentally broke Cooper’s new discman and he pretended I didn’t exist for two weeks, even after Mom and Dad brought him a new one.”

“Pretended you didn’t exist?” Sebastian prompts.

“He acted like he couldn’t see or hear me and if anyone asked him about me he’d say ‘who?’” Blaine replies, shrugging before he notices that it looks like Sebastian is trying not to laugh and protests, “Shut up, it was awful.”

Sebastian gives up any attempts at stifling his laughter and Blaine rolls his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck as he says, “I was seven!”

They come to a halt in front of Blaine’s car, Sebastian still trying to stifle his laughter as he says, “That is possibly the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Blaine shoots a dirty look at him as he digs into his coat pocket for his keys, rolling his eyes when he finds that Sebastian has resorted to just smirking at him. He takes his time unlocking the driver’s side door and stowing his bags in the back behind the seats, smiling in spite of himself when he meets Sebastian’s eyes as he hands over the last of them.

It is when all the bags are tucked away safely and Blaine turns around, his eyes drifting up to find Sebastian leaning against the side of Blaine’s car with a strange expression on his face, that something warm settles in his chest. The smile on his face is probably just a shade too hopeful as he asks, “So?”

“So,” Sebastian echoes, raising his eyebrows before he asks, “Have you got any plans for New Years Eve?”

Blaine tucks his hands into his pockets, heart sinking as he says, “Cooper’s flight leaves a few days before and I was supposed to be going to Kurt’s, so I guess not. Why do you ask?”

There is something about the smile that flashes across Sebastian’s face that Blaine finds a little worrying, though it quickly passes as Sebastian steps in closer, hands settling over Blaine’s shoulders as he says, “Now you do.”

“Are you going to share these plans?” Blaine asks, matching Sebastian’s move forward with one of his own and tilting his chin up expectantly.

“I might,” Sebastian replies, hands sliding the breadth of Blaine’s shoulders to tug at the ends of his scarf in amusement and smirking when Blaine rolls his eyes at him, tired of waiting for Sebastian to take the hint and rocks up onto his toes to kiss him, grabbing onto Sebastian’s shoulders for balance.

For a moment Blaine just revels in it, the warmth and the closeness and the thrill of something new and exciting that he has been convincing himself for a long time that he shouldn’t want, before he sighs and sinks back onto his heels. He waits all of a minute, smiling expectantly up at Sebastian before asking, “So?”

“So?” Sebastian says, looking entirely too amused for Blaine’s liking.

“Are you going to tell me?” Blaine asks, expression shifting into a hint of a scowl.

Sebastian shrugs and takes a step back, nonchalantly tugging the strap of his gym bag higher onto his shoulder as he says, “Maybe.”

“Now?” Blaine presses, trying to hold onto his scowl when Sebastian just laughs at him.

“You should get going,” Sebastian says instead, taking another step back and smirking to himself, “It looks like it’s going to snow.”

The childish urge to chase Sebastian down being firmly stamped aside Blaine watches him turn on his heel and head off in the direction of his car. Blaine’s hand lands on the roof of his car with a thump as he calls after him, “Maybe I’ll make other plans.”

Sebastian’s snort of laughter echoes across the quiet parking lot before he looks back over his shoulder and calls, “Later, Anderson.”

“Bye, Sebastian,” Blaine mutters beneath his breath as he slides into his car and tugs the door shut behind him, pulling a face in the rearview mirror and there is a moment where he just stares at himself; at the stupid smile on his face he hadn’t even realized was there and the deep purple mark that shadows his jaw and he realizes, with a laugh, that maybe Cooper was right after all.

He can’t wallow forever.

But he will be damned if he lets Cooper know that.

\--

Blaine has a plan.

It involves getting inside, upstairs and into his bathroom before anyone even notices he is home. It involves the stash of stage makeup he knows is buried somewhere in the bottom drawer of his vanity. It involves Cooper never, ever finding out about the very apparent hickey on his neck.

All he has to do now is implement the plan.

He makes it past the porch, through the front door and halfway up the stairs, so close to being home free that Blaine can almost _taste_ it, before Cooper sticks his head into the hallway and says, “Blainey! I thought I heard a car!”

Blaine freezes, cursing himself in the very next moment because there is no way Cooper won’t notice that, and says, “Hey Coop,” without budging an inch.

“What’s the hurry?” Cooper asks, the curiosity in his voice enough to make Blaine tense up, a hand rising to rub over the mark on his neck.

“I really need to go to the bathroom,” Blaine informs him, not daring to turn his head as he starts to take another step.

“Uh huh,” Cooper says and Blaine can hear him walking towards the base of the stairs. “Why do you sound so guilty, little brother?”

Blaine shifts, hand lingering over the mark on his neck as he takes another step upwards, listening to the thump of Cooper’s boots against the bottom step, and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He can practically hear Cooper thinking in the stretching silence, the tension growing as Blaine wonders if he can still talk his way out of this, the reminder that this is his brother hitting him right about the time he decides to make a break for it.

Cooper may have longer legs, but Blaine has always been fast.

The sound of Cooper tearing after him, laughing wildly in pursuit, as Blaine vaults up the stairs and makes a break for his room, takes him back years. It reminds him of the time he had accidentally broken Cooper’s Hanson cassette and tried to outrun the retribution. Or the time he had tried to smuggle a kitten home beneath his jacket and Cooper had heard it meowing and ran him down just so he could turn both Blaine and the kitten in to their parents.

He has just slid inside his room and is reaching back to shove the door closed behind him when Cooper barges through, holding the door open with one hand and smirking victoriously as he asks, “What are you trying to hide, squirt?”

Blaine tries to casually clap a hand over his neck, but he is too late if the wide and far too delighted expression on Cooper’s face is anything to go by.

Cooper lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raising high as he laughs out an impressed, “Way to go, little brother. I take it things went well last night.”

“Shut up,” Blaine warns him, raising a finger in warning and moving towards the bathroom to search for the jars of stage makeup he knows are there somewhere. “I swear Coop, if you tell Mom and Dad -”

“Come on, Blainey,” Cooper replies, following right on his heels and wearing the world’s most   
obnoxious grin. “I’m your big brother, it’s in my job description to make your life difficult.”

Blaine scowls up at him as he starts digging into his bathroom drawers, rummaging through the loose bandaids and bits and pieces of product samples Kurt had always subtly tried to convince him into trying on his hair.

“So which one was it?” Cooper asks as he leans a hip against the vanity and stares down at him. “You didn’t decide to give the Ex another go did you?”

“No,” Blaine replies, feeling a little relieved when he finally manages to scrounge up one of the familiar pottles from amidst the mess of his drawer.

Cooper’s eyebrows arch high, lips curving as he says, “I knew it. Preppy McDouchebag finally made his move.”

Blaine rolls his eyes as he pushes back to his feet, unscrewing the lid from the top of the jar and peering in at the make-up with a grimace before dabbing a finger carefully into it and setting it down on top of his vanity. “His name is Sebastian,” Blaine feels obligated to point out, glowering at Cooper in the mirror as he tilts his head to get a better angle on it and starting to carefully smear the make-up over the deep purple mark.

There is a snort of amusement before Cooper is batting his hand away, turning Blaine towards him and reaching for the jar of makeup with a broad smile. “You look like a three-year-old’s finger painting, let me do it.”

Trying his best not to huff, Blaine stands still, chin tilted up and lets Cooper lightly dab his finger over the mark, covering it little by little as he says, “He respects you, right?”

Blaine levels a look at him and Cooper rolls his eyes, dabbing a little more makeup on his finger before dotting it over Blaine’s skin again. “I’m just asking, Blaine, these are big brother privileges right?”

It takes a moment, Blaine wrinkling his nose a little because Sebastian is very _Sebastian_ but ultimately, he is sure of himself as he says, “He does.” 

“Good,” Cooper replies, dropping his hand back to his side and eyeing his work critically before announcing, “I’m all done. That will probably even get past the Mom inspection.”

Blaine glances back to the mirror, inspecting his reflection carefully and deciding that, while the color doesn’t perfectly match his skin, it should be enough to fool anyone who isn’t looking too hard and smiles back at his brother. “Thank you, Cooper.”

“Oh, don’t thank me yet,” Cooper replies cheerfully. “This is going to be _so_ much fun.”

\--

 

Family dinners are different with Cooper around.

There is a balance that is restored between them; like everything falls back into alignment with Cooper around to bridge the gap. It usually comes in the form of his parents asking long, involved questions about Cooper’s life in LA while the usual jealousies build beneath Blaine’s skin, but it is almost welcome compared to their usual stilted conversation.

And if Blaine spends their dinners wondering why he has never had the ease with his parents that Cooper has (why his father has never been able to ask questions about his roommates or audition stories without it feeling strained or forced when he can hang on Cooper’s every word like it is the easiest thing in the world), it is only because he sometimes feels like he fades into the upholstery when Cooper’s around.

They make it through almost twenty minutes before Cooper glances up and catches his eye as Blaine is reaching for the bread, pausing mid-sentence as though he has only just realized that Blaine is there and that he hasn’t said more than three sentences over the course of the entire meal and his smile freezes.

“You know,” Cooper says after a moment, sitting up a little straighter in his chair and glancing briefly between their parents. “You missed a really great show last night.”

A hint of a smile touches the corners of Blaine’s lips and he looks back down at his plate, eating another forkful of lasagne as he resists the urge to roll his eyes. Cooper has never been particularly subtle and from the guarded expressions on his parents faces he suspects they know exactly what Cooper is doing.

Blaine watches their mother glance over at Cooper with a patient smile, something a little pointed in her expression before she moves onto Blaine and says, “I’m sure you were wonderful, Blaine.”

“You should see them perform sometime,” Cooper continues, ignoring the pointed look Blaine levels at him, trying to psychically convey for Cooper to just drop it, before he adds, “Blaine’s really grown as a performer. You can really see the _impression_ those Warblers have left on you, little brother."

Blaine smiles tightly back at him, eyes narrowing as he realizes exactly what Cooper is saying and replies, "Thanks, Coop," before kicking out beneath the table. His smile brightens just a little as he feels his foot connect with Cooper’s shin and the resulting wince of pain that crosses his brother’s face.

"Maybe we'll make it for the next show," their mother replies with another, slightly more strained smile in Cooper's direction.

A quick glance in his father's direction shows that he is frowning down at his plate, clearing his throat before he asks, "How is school going, Blaine?"

"Okay, I guess," Blaine replies slowly, glaring across the table at Cooper when he looks far too pleased with himself. 

“And you’re doing okay?” his father continues, looking entirely uncomfortable, like he isn’t even sure he wants to be asking that question.

“I”m fine,” Blaine replies, reaching for his glass to take a long sip of water and trying not to feel too uncomfortable beneath his father’s attention.

The strangest part is that it is true. He doesn’t know exactly what he and Sebastian are or even what they could be, but there is something really nice about the way that Blaine feels when he is around him. 

Blaine thinks that he likes Sebastian a lot more than he has ever really let himself consider, that he _could_ like him even more than that. He doesn’t know what he is ready for, really, if he and Kurt have really resolved everything that has happened between them, but he does know that whatever he is, Sebastian isn’t just a friend now.

He wishes he knew how to settle things with Kurt, to make things right without reverting back to what their relationship had turned into, but for now he thinks that time is all that will help.

His father has returned to his dinner and Cooper has resumed a story about one of his former roommates, something that Blaine has already missed half of and can’t quite seem to catch on to, and maybe this is what his family is; maybe it isn’t a Hummel-Hudson picture-perfect family dinner and maybe they only really function with Cooper there to cement them together, but they are still his family. 

He thinks that maybe he should try making the most of what he does have instead of wishing for the things he doesn’t.

\--


	5. Chapter 5

\--

 

The text arrives two days later as he is sitting at the breakfast bar watching Cooper attempt to make an omelette with mild fascination. The simple, _Coffee?_ making Blaine’s heart pound inexplicably, mild panic and confusion rising in him before he sees who it came from.

Blaine blinks down at it for a minute or so, biting his lip as the momentary leap of something like panic in his chest turns to something excited before he texts back, _Okay, where?_

The reply comes only five minutes later, as he is tapping his fingers across his knees and Cooper is humming something about grating the cheese, _Lima Bean, in an hour?_

He wrinkles his nose, wondering why Sebastian would want to meet in Lima but texting back a quick, _See you there_ , before he shoves his phone back into his pocket and looks up to find Cooper watching him, spatula in hand.

“What’s the smug little smile for?” Cooper asks, leaning against the counter, “You got a date with the new boyfriend?”

Blaine laughs a little awkwardly, shifting on his perch on the barstool as he says, “Why would you say that?”

“That would be a yes then,” Cooper says, turning back to the oven to prod aimlessly at his omelette with the spatula. “I can’t believe you would ditch your only brother during the holidays. We’re supposed to be going shopping together today.”

“You aren’t serious, are you?” Blaine asks, wrinkling his forehead in confusion. 

“Leaving me all alone,” Cooper continues as if Blaine hadn’t spoken at all, busily sprinkling his grated cheese across his creation. “By myself. In this sad little house.”

“Cooper we’re just getting coffee,” Blaine says, wrinkling his nose at even the idea of unleashing his older brother on Sebastian after he has already discovered the source of the slowly fading hickey on Blaine’s neck. “You aren’t coming.”

“I like coffee,” Cooper mutters as he scatters red onion across the pan. “I introduced you to coffee.”

“No you didn’t,” Blaine replies, rolling his eyes and grabbing for his glass. “You gave me black coffee and told me it was hot chocolate.”

Cooper beams, pointing his spatula dramatically in Blaine’s direction as he says, “Exactly. I gave you your first taste.”

“I was five, Cooper,” Blaine replies stiffly, draining the last of his orange juice. “I cried for two hours and Mom thought I was having an allergic reaction so she drove me to the hospital.”

“Huh,” Cooper says after a moment, clearly stumped as he grinds pepper over the top of his masterpiece before saying. “If that happened I am so sorry, but I honestly don’t remember it.”

With a pronounced roll of his eyes Blaine slides off his stool, picking up his empty glass and plate and moving around the breakfast bar to put his dishes into the dishwasher. “Of course you don’t,” Blaine sighs as he pushes the dishwasher shut and slips past Cooper again.

“Come on, Blainey,” Cooper says, turning on the spot to follow Blaine’s path, “You aren’t really going to leave me here by myself all morning, are you? I promise I won’t harass your new boyfriend.”

Blaine sighs loudly and turns around to face him, arms crossed as he says, “You aren’t coming into the coffee shop.”

“I’ll drink mine outside,” Cooper replies brightly.

“There’s snow outside,” Blaine finds himself obligated to point out.

It takes Cooper all of a moment to suggest, “I’ll wear a hat?”

“You have to sit on the _other_ side of the coffee shop and you aren’t allowed to talk to us, look at us or in any way acknowledge us,” Blaine says, sighing as he rubs his face, knowing he is going to regret this, before he mutters. “Be ready to go in half an hour.”

“Trust me, Blainey,” Cooper assures him with a brilliant smile, “You won’t even know I’m there.”

\--

There is something unsettling about being back at the Lima Bean.

Blaine doesn’t know what it is - if it’s that the Lima Bean is so tied up in his history with Kurt, if it is that he remembers that is the table where he first told Kurt he loved him and that is the table where they had that awful fight over Rachel. He doesn’t know if it has anything to do with Cooper lurking in the corner with sunglasses on and the collar of his leather jacket popped with his green tea sitting in front of him, pretending to read last month’s _Us Weekly_. He doesn’t know if it is the fact that he almost walks straight up to the counter and orders a medium drip and a low-fat mocha before he realizes what he is doing and has to physically restrain himself. 

What he does know is that the excitement he had been feeling when Sebastian texted him that morning seems to be faltering and the longer he spends looking at the surroundings the more they remind him of Kurt. For all that Blaine thinks that he has been doing better recently, that the ache has lessened a little and he isn’t checking his phone for texts that aren’t going to come, it reminds him just how much he misses his best friend.

He has been staring at the menu board for almost five minutes now, struck by the realization that he has no idea what Sebastian’s coffee order even is and that is kind of terrifying. He has known Sebastian for months now and this is the first time they have actually planned to get coffee together.

In that moment he is absolutely certain that he shouldn’t be here - what had he even been thinking, coming to the Lima Bean? What if one of Kurt’s friends shows up and sees him here with Sebastian? What if _Kurt_ shows up and sees him here with Sebastian? Something twists in his stomach, the urge to text Sebastian and cancel, to go to the mall with Cooper and do their Christmas shopping and forget he even thought about this.

The panic continues to rise acrid up the back of his throat until the moment a hand settles low on his back and a low, amused voice speaks into his ear, “What are you doing?” 

Blaine almost jumps, whipping his head around to find Sebastian staring down at him with an amused expression. “You scared me.”

“You’ve been standing here staring at that board since I got here,” Sebastian replies, lips curving further as he reaches out to trace a fingertip over the knot of Blaine’s bowtie.

“I just realized that I don’t know your coffee order,” Blaine replies, trying to shake off the unease that had settled over him and feeling the smile come a little easier when he meets Sebastian’s eyes and realizes just how at ease he seems.

Sebastian rolls his eyes, closing a hand around Blaine’s arm as he says, “I don’t have a coffee order. Doesn’t getting the same thing every time you go somewhere get kind of boring?”

It makes Blaine pause, laughing awkwardly as he says, “I guess so?”

He gets levelled with an amused smile for that, Sebastian stopping him with the grip on his arm before he says, “Pick a number.”

Blaine wrinkles his nose, glancing over at Sebastian dubiously as he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me,” Sebastian says, blatantly ignoring the way the barista is staring expectantly at them in a way that Blaine has never been able to.

“Seven,” Blaine says after a moment, following Sebastian’s eyes towards the menu board before watching as he moves to the counter.

Blaine makes it to the counter in time to hear Sebastian say, “- and a caramel macchiato.”

The barista offers Blaine a small smile of recognition and Blaine smiles back immediately, digging into his pocket for his wallet and ignoring the look on Sebastian’s face as he knocks aside his hand to pay.

“What?” he asks as he drops the change into the tip jar, glancing over at Sebastian from the corner of his eye. “You can pay next time.”

“Next time?” Sebastian repeats, raising both eyebrows as he moves around the counter to wait for their drinks.

Blaine shrugs, digging his hands into his pockets and trying to look unconcerned as he replies, “If you’re lucky.”

\--

It is kind of surprising how quickly the nerves settle once they reach their seats. Blaine steers them towards a table over near the windows, far from the seats that he and Kurt had always gravitated towards. 

Sebastian distracts him by offering him the caramel macchiato first, which is sweeter than Blaine usually prefers, before swapping him for the chai green latte. Blaine pulls a face after the first taste, trying to adjust to the balance of flavors, but after a few sips he decides that he might like it; even if it is the most pretentious coffee order he has ever heard of.

The thing is that it is fun. That _he_ is having fun. 

And it is a small thing, a stupid thing maybe, but knowing that something as simple as his coffee order is a _choice_ again, that there are no expectations at all about what he likes resting on him is kind of liberating. 

It is when Sebastian pauses mid-sentence, head tilting to an odd angle and he asks, "Is that your brother?" that Blaine is reminded that however well his maybe-date may have been going, it doesn’t mean that it will stay that way.

Blaine freezes, glancing slowly over his shoulder in the direction of Cooper’s table to where he is still pretending to read that awful, outdated magazine and winces as he sees him peering over the top at them.

"I told him he wasn’t allowed to even look at us," Blaine groans, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. "We're going Christmas shopping later and he wouldn’t shut up until I said he could come along."

"You brought your brother with you," Sebastian says slowly, the smirk on his face growing steadily wider. "And made him sit in the corner.”

Grimacing, Blaine glances again over his shoulder before he says, “He isn’t here for very long. I felt bad leaving him at home by himself.”

“You brought a chaperone,” Sebastian continues like he hadn’t even heard Blaine, laughing when Blaine only groans in response.

“I didn’t bring a chaperone,” Blaine says, rolling his eyes as he turns to glare over his shoulder in Cooper’s general direction and gets an encouraging thumbs up in response.

Sebastian’s laughter trails off as he sinks back in his chair, eyebrows raised as he says, “Just how close are you and your brother again?

It takes all of five seconds for the smirk on Sebastian’s face to register before Blaine pulls a face, sitting back in his chair and saying, “Gross, Sebastian.”

The laughter starts anew and Blaine rolls his eyes, pushing his cup back across the table and grabbing Sebastian’s with a snort of, “For that I think you deserve the caramel thing back.”

\--

“So that seemed to go well,” Cooper says later as they are flipping through CDs, humming to himself as he inspects the back of what Blaine thinks might be the latest Michael Buble Christmas album with serious consideration before he adds, “Just remember little brother, always use protection.”

The sound that escapes his lips is nothing short of a squawk, his face burning as he clammers not to drop the CD he is holding and snaps back, “Shut up, Cooper.”

\--

Christmas break passes much quicker with Cooper there, dragging him out to do last minute shopping and teasing him mercilessly over the dopey expression he gets whenever he is texting Sebastian.

It is surprisingly fun in a way that Blaine doesn't really remember their relationship being while he was growing up. 

As long as Blaine can remember Cooper's focus had always been on getting as far away from Ada as he possibly could. Blaine had worshipped his brother growing up, enough to put up with the constant and inevitable irritation whenever Blaine couldn't quite keep up with Cooper’s latest song and dance routine.

When Cooper had finally gotten his wish, disappearing off to LA with barely a backward glance, Blaine had been devastated. Cooper had been the only person in his family he had ever really been able to relate to, the coolest person in the entire world to Blaine's eyes, and suddenly it was like Blaine didn't even exist to him anymore except on holidays and birthdays.

But there is something different about the way Cooper insists on making time just to hang out with him, that makes Blaine believe that Cooper means it when he says he wants to get to know him better. Like maybe this time around he won't be forgotten the moment Ada is just a speck on a map again.

Christmas day is the one day they all have together where nobody has to work. There is a tense sense of peace about it all as they eat their dinner and open presents and if Blaine has to try extra hard not to roll his eyes when his father's present turns out to be a renewal of his gym membership and his mother's a gift voucher, it is all kind of worth it when Cooper hands his over with an expression of badly contained excitement.

"They're for the summer," Cooper informs him before he even has the envelope open. "Mom and Dad pitched in as well. We thought you could come visit for a few weeks, maybe check out a few of the west coast colleges while you're at it."

Blaine beams from the airplane tickets in his hand to Cooper and his parents and back again with the first genuine smile he has had since they all sat down. "I would love that."

And if there is something more to the relieved expressions on his parents faces than just being happy he liked his gift, well, it is the holidays.

He can deal with that later.

\--

Blaine is the one who ends up driving Cooper to the airport. 

Their parents had said their goodbyes the night before, Blaine biting his lip as he listened to them bemoan not being able to see Cooper off as it really started to sink in just how much he is going to miss Cooper when he is gone again. 

His fingers tap erratically across the steering wheel as Cooper leans over to play with the stereo again and Blaine half expects him to start skipping stations to try and convince Blaine to sing along with him again (though Blaine is willing to admit it usually doesn’t take a lot of convincing) when he dials the volume down to barely a murmur and clears his throat.

Something hitches in his chest as Cooper shifts in his seat, sitting back and turning towards Blaine as he says, “So, little brother, I wanted to talk to you before I go.”

“Okay,” Blaine replies warily, glancing quickly in Cooper’s direction before looking back to the road. 

“I know that I can be tough on you sometimes,” Cooper continues after a moment, his eyes fixed on the side of Blaine’s face as he speaks, “And I know I haven’t always been there for you when you needed me around and I need to apologize for that.”

Blaine glances over again, his breath catching in his chest as he starts to say, “Coop -”

“No, let me finish okay,” Cooper cuts him off, holding up a hand as he says, “We’ve drifted apart a lot over the last few years, but I want you to know that if you ever need to talk to someone you can call me, okay, night or day.”

For a moment Blaine doesn’t know what to say, his breath catching in his throat as he stares hard at the road, his voice small before he says, “Thank you.”

He can practically feel Cooper’s eyes on him as he tries to blink back the warmth in his eyes, but apparently he isn’t done either. Cooper’s voice is gentle as he says, “Even though we don’t live in the same town and we don’t see each other all the time, we’re not just brothers, right? We’re friends too.”

Something heavy sits in Blaine’s throat as his eyes dart towards Cooper, his fingers clutching at the steering wheel as his composure starts to buckle and he says, “That’s exactly what I’ve always wanted us to be, Coop.”

There is a moment of Cooper staring at him hard, Blaine’s eyes flickering between the road and his brother until Cooper says, “Nope, okay, that’s not going to cut it, pull over.”

“What?” Blaine asks, blinking wildly at his inexplicably misty eyes and trying not to pay any attention to the strained sound of his own voice.

“We’re hugging this out, pull over,” Cooper insists, starting to reach over so that Blaine hurriedly signals and pulls off onto the shoulder of the road.

He has barely pulled the parking brake on and killed the engine before Cooper is pushing open his door, Blaine blinking after him as he asks, “Cooper what are you doing? We’ll miss your check-in.”

“Get out here Blainey, we’re doing this properly,” Cooper calls back, Blaine shivering at the icy air that is infiltrating the car before he sighs and carefully pushes open his door, glancing over his shoulder before he steps out and heads around to Cooper’s side of the car.

The last of the snow crunches beneath his feet, icy from the rain that has washed the worst of it away and Blaine hesitates only a moment, rolling his eyes when Cooper opens up his arms and beckons him in. 

There is something about Cooper’s hugs that has always made Blaine feel like they could fix anything and as Blaine sinks into it, closing his eyes and sighing with relief, he honestly believes that Cooper means it this time around. Blaine starts to withdraw, pulling his arms back and blinks as Cooper squeezes a little tighter and says, “Hold on a sec,” Blaine pauses, waiting for Cooper to move and rolling his eyes when he adds, “I want to remember this emotion so I can use it in a scene some day.”

Blaine can’t help but laugh, lips curling upwards when Cooper finally pulls back and he tells him, “You’re ridiculous.”

“You never know, right?” Cooper replies lightly, beaming across at him before his smile softens a little, hands resting on Blaine’s shoulders as he says, “I mean it though, Blainey. If you ever need to talk to someone, you can always call me.”

“I know,” Blaine replies, trying not to sound quite as choked up as he suddenly feels. “I want to hear about how your auditions are going too, you know.”

“Good,” Cooper replies, clearing his throat suddenly and flashing a smile that seems a little tentative before he adds, “Though we probably should get going now or I really am going to miss my check-in.”

Blaine laughs, stepping back and rubbing his arms to try and recover some warmth as he hurries back around to the driver’s side, saying, “I told you we shouldn’t have stopped.”

“Are you telling me you don’t feel better after that?” Cooper replies, beaming over at him as he tugs the door shut behind him and Blaine clicks his seatbelt back into place.

The curve of Blaine’s lips must betray him if Cooper’s grin is any indication, because he just leans forward to turn the volume on the radio back up, flipping stations until he stops, laughing and says, “Oh my god.”

Blaine grins and shakes his head as Cooper turns the volume up louder, the familiar beat of an old Duran Duran song they must have sung more times growing up than Blaine can remember filling the car. 

“Come on, Blaine,” Cooper insists, beaming over at him, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the words?”

“I don’t think that’s actually possible,” Blaine replies, trying to hide a smile as Cooper starts singing along with the first line, nudging into his shoulder pointedly.

That is all it takes, really.

By the time they reach the chorus they are drowning out the stereo and later, as he is clinging tightly to his brother before he disappears through to the departure lounge, Blaine can’t help but think that they had never sounded better.

\--

The house feels even quieter than it usually does after having Cooper around.

Blaine spends the days after lounging around the house; taking down Christmas decorations and trying to wheedle clues out of Sebastian about what he has planned for New Year’s, sorting through the things he needs to take back to school and what he can leave behind.

It is a familiar kind of quiet, at least, but Blaine really isn’t sure if that makes it better or worse.

If there is one benefit to his sudden increase in alone time it is that (with Sebastian seemingly taking every text as a personal challenge to see how many ways he can make Blaine blush) there is no need for him to rush when he wants to get off.

At this point Blaine knows he has developed some fantastic self-control; he is so accustomed to a dorm room with no privacy and an ever-present roommate, only being guaranteed any true degree of privacy when he is in the shower, that he knows how to be discrete when he has to. 

But without Cooper lurking around the house, waiting to burst in on him at any moment, he doesn’t feel quite so nervous about lying in bed until mid-morning, wondering what it would feel like if it was Sebastian’s hand wrapped around him instead of his own or what it would feel like if it were his mouth instead. He knows that Sebastian is more experienced than he is, that when he talked about going to Scandals it hadn’t just been to dance and get drunk, and it makes him wonder a little.

Mostly he is curious. He has _been_ curious for a while, but Kurt’s discomfort with even talking about sex had made him cautious and that awful encounter with Kurt even more so. He hadn’t wanted to make Kurt feel uncomfortable or pressured in any way so Blaine had stuck to the porn he finds online and experimenting with himself.

There is something about the memory of Sebastian’s hands laid low on his back, at his waist and at his hip, the hungry crawl of his eyes, that has settled beneath Blaine’s skin; a maddening itch that makes him wonder more with each passing day and round of unsubtle innuendo. 

Blaine wants to figure out each and every one of the ways he can make another person feel good, to discover what he likes and what he doesn’t. To taste and to touch and to discover.

He’s curious.

Just curious enough to bite down on his lower lip, staring at Sebastian’s latest blatant evasion to a question and text back, What are you doing today?

\--

It takes all of five minutes after Sebastian agrees to come over for Blaine to start to panic, fingers tapping nervously against the edge of his phone before he rakes them through his hair, and the mass of ungelled fluff is enough to remind him that he hasn’t even showered yet, that Sebastian had said he would be there soon (and just how soon is _soon_ anyway?) and Blaine still isn’t even _dressed_.

He drops his phone onto his bed, fingers twisting together in front of him for a moment before launching to his feet and making a beeline for his closet and suddenly there is something daunting about the hangers full of clothing, most of it still unworn, hanging in the exact same categories that Kurt had put them in when he had reorganized Blaine’s wardrobe over the summer.

Blaine stares, his heart sinking at the sight of the carefully segmented sections; cool colours and warm colours and winter and summer and _’don’t you ever wear this again Blaine Anderson’, ‘why did you even buy this?’_ and _’you’re lucky I’m not throwing this out right now’_ and the cardigan with the lobsters on it that Kurt had repeatedly moved to the back of the wardrobe to the place that he had dubbed the _novelty_ section, complete with pointed looks of distaste whenever Blaine so much as glanced in it’s direction. The only thing out of place is his freshly dry-cleaned blazer, still in it’s garment bag, hung up on the back of the door.

His eyes drop, tugging his lower lip beneath his teeth because maybe it is weird that his wardrobe is still sorted in the exact way his ex-boyfriend had left it and maybe it is even weirder that he is standing here, thinking about that when his new possibly-boyfriend is on his way over. 

With a determined narrowing of his eyes he skims his fingers over the rows of colors and textures and rolls his eyes when he realizes how ridiculous he is being. Blaine isn’t even sure that there _is_ an outfit that says _I’ve been thinking about sucking your cock_. Or at least, not in his wardrobe.

He suspects he might be overthinking things just a little.

\--

Blaine finds Sebastian on his doorstep barely an hour later, leaning against the doorframe to wait by the time Blaine finally reaches the door, face flushed from his frenzied dash down the stairs. His hair is still a dripping mess from the shower, soaking into the sweater he had grabbed at the last minute and he is utterly unprepared for the smile that crawls across Sebastian’s face when he glances up as Blaine pulls open the door. 

Something warm slides beneath Blaine’s skin and settles in, stirring up the nerves that have been skittering around inside him since he sent that first text, and his own smile is a little flustered and far too eager but he can’t seem to care as he says, “Hi.”

The corner of Sebastian’s lip twitches a little, his eyes dipping low before dragging slowly upwards again as Blaine pulls the door open wider, suddenly bizarrely self-conscious of his bare feet. Blaine watches him push off of the doorframe, eyebrow quirking upwards as he asks, “You alright there, Anderson?”

“You’re early,” Blaine replies, rubbing at the back of his neck and stepping backwards to let Sebastian in as the cold finally registers. 

“Looks to me like I missed the show already,” Sebastian replies, shrugging as he brushes past Blaine to get inside. “Do you sing in the shower as well?”

Laughter escapes his mouth before he can stop it, his hand running self-consciously through his hair with the realization that it must look like he has a wet mop on his head as he closes the door behind him and turns around to find Sebastian just watching him. He looks away, smiling a little sheepishly as he says, “Just let me fix my hair and we can watch a movie or something.”

Sebastian makes a soft, amused noise in the back of his throat as he reaches out to pluck at one of the dripping curls, crowding Blaine back against the door with two steps and asking, “Did you really ask me over here to watch a movie?”

Heat crawls up the back of his neck as his back hits the door, his head rolling back to meet Sebastian’s intent stare and for a moment he considers lying, brushing it off with a laugh. Instead he slowly shakes his head, cheeks burning as Sebastian’s smile grows even wider.

“That’s what I thought.” 

\--

It’s too warm.

There is still snow on the ground outside and the the light coming through his bedroom window is pearly grey, promising more in the not so distant future, but Blaine feels like he is burning up, heat arcing through his skin from the points of contact where Sebastian’s hands are planted.

Blaine’s sweater keeps inching higher and higher up his back, following the path of Sebastian’s hands until Sebastian is tugging at it pointedly and Blaine lifts his arms, balancing unsteadily on his knees as it is dragged up over his head and discarded. There is a low hum of satisfaction as Sebastian slides a hand up into his hair and Blaine rocks forward to kiss him again, lazy and slow and familiar, and it feels like they have been making out for hours.

From the moment Blaine had crawled into Sebastian’s lap, ignoring the thump of panic in his chest, it has been like this; the lazy slide of their mouths together, the slow path of Sebastian’s hands wandering over his skin and Blaine is willing to bet his hair is an absolute mess from the way Sebastian’s fingers keep sliding through it, tugging lightly every so often in a way that draws embarrassing little whines from the back of Blaine’s throat. 

His own fingers have been tentatively tracing the shape of muscle beneath Sebastian’s skin, tugging his shirt out of the way to follow the dip of his hipbone, to ghost curiously over the lines of definition in his abs, palms skimming over his ribcage and up, scraping his thumb curiously over a nipple and listening for the hitch of breath that never quite comes. 

It is slow and it’s almost, strangely, sweet and it is not at all what Blaine had been expecting.

When Sebastian pulls back, pressing a kiss to the mostly-faded hint of a mark beneath his jaw and his fingers tug again at his hair, Blaine hums, hips shifting incrementally forward of their own accord and his breath hitches as he registers the suddenly apparent shape of Sebastian’s dick, half-hard and pressed against his own. It is as Sebastian’s mouth closes over his collarbone, seemingly unconcerned as his teeth scrape lightly over the skin and his tongue follows after, that he says it, the words tumbling out of his mouth before Blaine has a chance to stop them, “I want to blow you.”

Sebastian leans back slowly, his mouth slack with surprise that quickly takes a turn towards wicked, what is sure to be a horrifying comment forming on his tongue before Blaine hurriedly plasters a hand over Sebastian’s mouth, heart thumping wildly in his chest as he says, “Whatever it is, please don’t say it.”

There is something decidedly amused in the arch of Sebastian’s eyebrows as he reaches up to peel Blaine’s hand away from his mouth, running his tongue across his lower lip before he says, “I wasn’t exactly going to complain.”

Blaine can feel the heat pooling in his cheeks, his eyes dipping downwards as something determined gathers inside of him. He takes a breath before reaching down to tug at the hem of Sebastian’s shirt, laughing a little when it catches awkwardly around Sebastian’s head, his hair coming out ruffled and ridiculous when Blaine discards it over the side of the bed.

The sight of all that bare, pale skin is distracting, his fingers tracing shapes between the scatter of freckles and beauty spots that are mapped out across Sebastian’s chest; a smile surfacing on his lips as he tips forward to press his lips to one that is settled in the dip of Sebastian’s collarbone. He feels Sebastian shift beneath him, hands sliding down his back to settle over his ass and, rather pointedly, drag his hips forward. 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Blaine crawls off of Sebastian’s lap, watching as he shifts over to the edge of the bed and stands. Blaine watches as Sebastian unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his hips and he barely catches a glimpse of the tight, black boxer briefs before they are dragged out of the way as well, joining the rest of Sebastian’s clothes in a pile on the floor.

He gets only a glimpse of Sebastian’s ass, of the dimples above it, before he pushes himself to his feet, shifting at the prickling sensation in his feet as his circulation kicks in and turns back to face Sebastian. 

And it isn’t like he has never seen another guy’s dick before, he has watched enough porn to know that they come in all shapes and sizes, but he can’t seem to stop staring. There is a soft, badly stifled noise that he thinks might be laughter from Sebastian but he’s a little too preoccupied to check. 

After that it’s like a blur, the thump of his heart drumming loud in his ears as he sinks to his knees and Sebastian sits down again, thighs splayed wide to accommodate him. He curls a hand carefully around the base before leaning in, brushing his lips lightly over the tip, then his tongue, satisfying his curiosity with every soft noise that each experiment brings with it. When his mouth closes over the tip, Sebastian rasps, “Watch your teeth.”

Fingers thread into his hair and Blaine hums an acknowledgement as the taste of him settles heavy on his tongue. He has imagined what it would be like to blow someone before, faceless guys with pornstar bodies and sometimes Kurt, more recently Sebastian himself, but it’s nothing like he had imagined.

It’s awkward; saliva dribbling down his chin when he takes him in too far, and the taste isn’t bad so much as strange, but he can hear the increasingly less put together noises from above him as he glances up, can see the rapid flutter of Sebastian’s chest and the sight makes his dick throb. It surprises Blaine, how much he likes the stretch of it, the weight of him against his tongue and the drag against his lips. 

He pulls back for a moment, balancing his free hand against Sebastian’s thigh as he breathes unsteadily, listening to the soft groan as Sebastian’s fingers drift down to slide over his jaw before he moves forward again. It gets easier as he figures things out, to flatten his tongue and relax a little, to breathe through his nose and not try to take too much at once, his eyes drift open again, glancing up at the brush of a thumb against his cheekbone and he finds Sebastian staring down at him, face flushed and eyes dark.

Their eyes lock, Sebastian’s fingers sliding back into his hair and tugging just a little and Blaine’s hips jerk forward, the whine that tries to escape his throat ending with a corresponding roll of Sebastian’s hips, the movement catching him off guard. He pulls back coughing and smacks at Sebastian’s thigh when he hears him bite back a sound that seems more amused than apologetic.

Blaine glares up at him for a moment, adding a grumbled, “Jerk,” beneath his breath before he closes his lips around the tip again, sucking lightly and trying not to be too smug about the sound that draws up Sebastian’s throat. All it takes is the slide of his hand and his mouth sinking lower for Sebastian to groan, his thighs splaying wider as he says, “Blaine, you should probably -”

The warning is clear, Blaine sinking back onto his heels as his hand finishes the job and it is barely moments before Sebastian’s hips are jerking up into Blaine’s fist, his whole body tensing and straining before his come is spilling over Blaine’s fingers. Blaine watches him unwind, fascinated by the rise and fall of his chest as he sinks back onto his elbows to catch his breath, eyes closed and expression slack.

Blaine’s eyes drift back to his hand, to the come that is dripping over his fingers with a faint wrinkle of his nose, wondering for just a moment before he brings a finger to his mouth to taste. There is a groan from above and Blaine looks up to find Sebastian staring down at him, pushing himself back up onto his hands before he reaches out to tip Blaine’s chin up.

He is just starting to feel a little self-conscious beneath that far too intent stare, eyes training downward before Sebastian is angling in, his lips curling wide as he says, “I’m really glad you didn’t just want to watch a movie,” and presses in closer to kiss him.

Blaine’s pretty sure that he is too.

Sebastian watches him for a moment, lips curving wide as he stands and reaches down to help Blaine back to his feet, “Now it’s my turn.”

\--

Blaine is sprawled bonelessly across his bed, eyelids drooping lazily and what he’s sure is an utterly stupid smile on his face, trying to ignore the smirk on Sebastian’s lips as he threads his fingers lazily through Blaine’s hair. He is pretty sure he has a hickey on his hip and Sebastian looks far smugger than is probably healthy for his ego, but Blaine is feeling far too good to bring himself to care.

“So are you going to tell me what we’re doing for New Year’s now?” Blaine asks after a moment, shifting lazily up onto his side so he can look over at Sebastian with his widest, most hopeful stare.

All he gets is an amused snort in response, Sebastian rolling to his feet and stretching his arms over his head before he says, “Not a chance.”

“Funny,” Blaine replies, watching him tug his briefs back into place with thoughtful eyes. “Where are you going?”

Sebastian snorts, turning his head to look at him with amusement before he says, “In case you haven’t noticed, Anderson, it’s snowing again. So unless you want me to still be here when your parents get home...”

Blaine’s eyes widen, darting towards his window to see that Sebastian is right, thick flakes of snow are already falling fast outside. He rolls to his feet, grabbing for his own underwear and dragging it on, ignoring the way Sebastian blatantly watches him bend and shift before he moves over to the window to stare outside.

There is already a thick coating of snow settled over the ground and over Sebastian’s car in the driveway and Blaine shifts uncomfortably, glancing over his shoulder to find that Sebastian has pulled his jeans on and is staring over at him curiously. “I don’t think you’re going to have a choice somehow.” 

Sebastian steps up behind him, his chest warm against Blaine’s back as the cold starts to seep in and peers over his shoulder, cursing beneath his breath, before his hands settle over Blaine’s hips. “I guess we’ll have to find some other way to entertain ourselves then.”

A smile crawls slowly across Blaine’s lips in response, his eyes fluttering shut as he laughs, “I think I might have an idea.”

\--

When his mother arrives home early from work, they are settled on the same sofa in the lounge, a movie playing in the background and there is a conspicuously careful distance between them.

If she notices the ruffled state of their hair or the flush of color in Blaine’s cheeks, she doesn’t mention it, instead quirking her head a little as she asks, “Who’s this?”

Blaine turns his head, glancing briefly in Sebastian’s direction before he says, “This is Sebastian. He goes to Dalton as well. We were watching movies and he got snowed in.”

There is something far too knowing in his mother’s expression as she glances over in Sebastian’s direction, lips curving just a little at the corner before she says, “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian. I’ll be in the study if you need me, Blaine.”

He waits until the click of her heels has disappeared down the hall before closing the distance between them again, still smiling to himself as he asks, “Enjoying your movie?”

Sebastian scoffs beneath his breath, lasting through Blaine’s smug smile for all of five minutes, his hand creeping down Blaine’s back again, waiting until Blaine is almost entirely engrossed in the action on screen again before he says, “You have a hickey on your neck, by the way.”

\--

It only takes five minutes of waiting with baited breath at the dinner table to discover that somehow, inexplicably, his parents actually seem to like Sebastian. Or at least they are doing a pretty convincing job of pretending to.

Blaine isn’t sure what he is supposed to make of it.

It isn’t like they had ever been particularly cold to Kurt, but they had never exactly warmed to him either. The few, brief encounters between his parents and Kurt while they had been dating had been filled with polite, brittle smiles and stilted conversation. Considering how welcoming Kurt’s family had been towards him, it had always been just a little bit mortifying.

This, however - his father talking to Sebastian like he is interested in what he has to say and Sebastian being both polite and apparently likeable in return - is something Blaine doesn’t know how to deal with. He isn’t even sure that Sebastian wants to be his boyfriend and yet his parents are already treating him better than they had ever treated Kurt. 

Even his mother, who keeps shooting these knowing looks in Blaine’s direction every so often like she is trying to gauge his reaction, seems to like him and she had almost walked in on them making out on the sofa. 

Mostly it just feels strange; the Sebastian who is talking to his father is barely recognizable as the boy that Blaine knows. It makes him wonder if maybe there is more to Sebastian than Blaine has been willing to admit to himself.

Or maybe he is just even better at pretending than Blaine’s parents are.

\--

When his phone starts ringing only half an hour after Sebastian had finally managed to get his car out of their drive and disappeared with a promise to call about New Years, Blaine scrambles to answer it. Part of him is panicking that maybe Sebastian’s car has broken down or worse, but the voice on the other end of the line is worryingly cheerful as it says, “ _Hey, Blainey._ ”

“Cooper?” Blaine asks, wrinkling his nose a little in surprise as he settles back into the sofa.

“ _No, your other brother_ ,” Cooper deadpans back and there is something far too smug about the tone of his voice that sets Blaine on edge. “ _So I had a call from Mom last night._ ”

Blaine narrows his eyes, wondering exactly when his mom had managed to sneak off for long enough to call Cooper and why it would translate to Cooper calling him, and says, “Okay, and?”

He thinks he can hear the sound of badly stifled laughter before Cooper adds, “ _She thinks her precious baby boy has been deflowered._ ”

Struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to throw his phone at the nearest wall and start running in the opposite direction as fast as he possibly can, Blaine gapes silently at nothing, the only sound he manages to force out of his throat a strange wheezing noise.

“ _You still there, squirt?_ ” Cooper continues in that horrifyingly chipper voice, “ _We’re just getting to the good bit. She also told me that as your big brother, it’s my duty to make sure you’re properly informed on how to protect yourself and your -_ ”

“Stop talking,” Blaine cuts in loudly, staring blankly at one of the awful prints his mother had brought last year from some local gallery and wondering if it is actually possible to will yourself out of being. “Please stop talking.”

“ _\- sexual partner_ ,” Cooper carries on, completely ignoring Blaine’s warnings and not even attempting to hide his laughter this time, his voice trembling with it as he says, “ _Oh come on Blaine, I’ve been doing research all morning for this conversation._ ”

“I did the research myself years ago and I am _not_ talking to you about this,” Blaine says firmly, shaking his head in slow denial because he refuses to let this happen to him. 

He still remembers the murderous glares he had received from Kurt for almost an entire week last year that he had eventually been able to wheedle out of him as resulting from having to sit through a painfully awkward _talk_ with his father. Kurt had blamed him for the entire mess without any idea of the extent to which he was actually responsible for it.

Apparently karma is kind of a bitch.

“ _It’ll be fun_ ,” Cooper says brightly, “ _Hey, if you go on Skype I can show you the diagrams from these very informative pamphlets I picked up from the free healthcare clinic this morning._ ”

“I’m hanging up right now,” Blaine replies in a strained voice, his eyes fixed rigidly on the wall opposite him. “If you ever talk to me about this again I’m telling mom the reason why her favorite silk blouse went missing when you were seventeen.”

“ _You know I only did it because Jenny Thompson said she’d let me touch her boobs,_ ” Cooper protests, the smugness disappearing from his voice in an instant, “ _How do you even remember that? You were only seven._ ”

“Eight,” Blaine corrects in return. “And I remember a lot more than that too, like the time you paid me ten dollars a week to play in the park all day on Sundays for an entire summer so you could have the house to yourself with Brenda Jones when I was eight. And the time you -”

“ _Alright, alright_ ,” Cooper cuts him off and Blaine is pleased to hear that he doesn’t sound anywhere near as amused as he had done earlier. “ _You’ve made your point, little brother. I’ll tell Mom we had a very informative chat._ ”

“Good,” Blaine replies, feeling a little relieved as he sinks back into the sofa.

“ _Just remember, kiddo, you should always use plenty of lube and -_ ”

Blaine scrambles wildly with his phone, not realizing entirely what he has just done until he sees that it is now lying on the carpet near the door on the opposite side of the room. 

Even from there he can still hear the tinny echo of Cooper’s laughter.

\--

 

“We’re going to Scandals? _That’s_ your mysterious New Year’s plan?”

Blaine turns to look at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to bite back the smile that is suddenly crawling across his lips. With limited success, if the expression on Sebastian’s face is any indication.

Sebastian snorts in response, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel restlessly as he glances over and says, “I never said it was mysterious, Anderson. That was all on you.”

His lips twitch a little in acknowledgement, studying Sebastian’s face from the corner of his eye before he glances away, trying to hide his smile as he says, “How do you know I even still have my fake ID?”

“With an ass like yours you could hand them your school ID and they’d let you in, jailbait,” Sebastian replies, smirking when Blaine turns in his seat to glare at him before he adds, “Besides, you haven’t taken it out of your wallet since the day I gave it to you, have you, Anderson?”

The blush that crawls up the back of his neck must say it all, because Sebastian turns back to the road with a satisfied smile on his face, laughing beneath his breath before he mutters, “So predictable.”

\--

The last time Blaine was at Scandals, he had been kind of disappointed by how provincial it had all seemed. Sad men in sad flannel shirts who didn't seem all that thrilled to be there. He'd had Kurt glaring over his shoulder and Sebastian pressing drinks into his hand and he had drunk more than he probably should have to deal with the underhanded sniping between them. And on top of all of that, he had ended the night by fighting with Kurt.

As far as his first experience at a gay bar was concerned it had been a bit of a letdown.

It is surprising how big of a change a given day can make.

This time around the bar is crowded, the music louder and the patrons younger. He can still see the flannel shirts dotted around the edges of the crowd, but they seem vastly outnumbered by the younger crowd that have descended upon the bar to welcome in the New Year. 

There are tacky New Year’s decorations scattered around the bar, reflecting back the colored lights from the dance floor and more than a few glittery top hats or party accessories scattered throughout the bar. Scandals actually looks like it might live up to it’s name, this time around.

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize that Sebastian has been trying to get his attention, his eyes jerking away from the crowd to meet the amused smirk before Sebastian is leaning in and speaking into Blaine’s ear, "I said we should go get a drink."

Blaine nods in response, tracking the crowds with his eyes as he follows the path Sebastian finds through them. It is stiflingly warm inside the bar after the icy cold of the parking lot and Blaine already wants to shed his coat, a prickle of heat crawling over his skin the further they get through the crowd.

By the time they reach the bar, the press of bodies growing more condensed the closer they get, Blaine is already shrugging out of his coat, glad that he had chosen the seemingly less practical choice of short-sleeves beneath now that he is stuck in the sauna of an overcrowded bar. Sebastian glances over his shoulder, quirking an eyebrow at him before laughing as he says, “You’re already stripping and you haven’t even had anything to drink yet. Clearly this is going to be a good night.”

“It’s hot,” Blaine replies with a shrug, something warm settling in his stomach at the way Sebastian’s eyes linger for just a moment before he holds out a hand for Blaine’s coat.

“I’ll get them to hold it behind the bar,” Sebastian explains as he slips his own coat from his shoulders before sliding into a gap Blaine hadn’t even seen to get to the bar. 

He is starting to feel a little self-conscious (and he is pretty sure the guy who had just grazed a hand across his butt on his way past had done it on purpose) by the time that Sebastian appears with a drink in either hand, pressing a beer into Blaine’s hand and saying, “Drink up, Anderson. This is where the fun part of the night starts.”

\--

Blaine is kind of glad for the crowds and the soothing effect of that beer, for how much easier it makes it to push them together while they are dancing. 

They have been dancing for a while, pressed closer and closer together by the increasing amounts of people on the floor and Sebastian’s hands have already crept up the back of his shirt, splayed wide over the warm skin of his back. Blaine remembers long gruelling dance rehearsals with Sebastian’s hands moving him into position as his own hands settle over Sebastian’s shoulders, digging into the muscle as Sebastian’s thumbs trace the edge of his waistband.

The memories of the other day only serve to lend purpose to every brush of fingers across his skin, a reminder of what it had felt like to come apart at Sebastian’s hands and be responsible for doing the same for him. He feels a little too warm, a little too eager and he is almost grateful when Sebastian says he wants another drink.

Blaine is glancing around the bar, waiting while Sebastian orders their drinks when he freezes, eyes caught on the unmistakable sight of a far too familiar head of hair. Blaine’s pretty sure he still sees that hair in his nightmares.

Horror sinks into his stomach, his hands flailing uselessly at his sides and his eyes following with slowly dawning terror as that head starts to turn and Blaine spins around, planting his face into Sebastian's chest just as he turns away from the bar to face him.

"Whoa," Sebastian laughs in surprise, glancing down and grabbing onto Blaine's shoulders to steady him with a bemused expression. "You've only had one beer, Anderson. I know you're a lightweight but this is a little extreme."

"Shut up," Blaine says into Sebastian’s shirt, not caring that Sebastian probably can’t actually hear him. "I'm trying to hide."

There is something that sounds almost like a snort as Sebastian shifts back a little to try and get a look at him, asking, "Okay, well, who are we hiding from exactly?"

"Nobody?" Blaine supplies hopefully.

"Well, I guess you won't mind if I just," Sebastian starts to say but Blaine shifts automatically with him as he tries to step aside.

"Okay, who is it?" Sebastian asks, clearly amused as he leans further back still to try and see Blaine's face.

"The guy with the blond hair," Blaine admits after a moment, glancing over his shoulder quickly before jerking back around hurriedly when he finds he has moved even closer in the interim. "Wearing the grey shirt."

Blaine winces as Sebastian cranes his head to look with interest, eyebrows arching as he asks, "Alright, what about him?"

"I may have gotten him fired," Blaine replies as quietly as he can, shifting uncomfortably when something knowing and delighted spreads across Sebastian's face.

"Wait a minute, _that's_ the Gap guy?" Sebastian laughs, craning his head around again with renewed interest.

The urge to hide becoming even more pronounced Blaine glowers up at him. "How do you know about that?"

The amused expression that Sebastian levels at him is answer enough. 

"Was it Trent?" Blaine asks with a pointed scowl, "Because I told him if he told that story one more time I would -"

Sebastian's laughter cuts him off, Blaine grimacing until Sebastian finally turns around to accept their drinks from the bartender. Sebastian presses another beer into his hand, rolling his eyes as he says, "He's gone, Anderson."

"Are you sure?" Blaine asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm offended that you think I'd do that to you," Sebastian replies, sounding far too amused for Blaine to believe a single word he’s saying.

"He's right behind me isn't he?" Blaine sighs.

Blaine takes the snort of laughter he receives in response as a definite yes.

"You are a terrible person," Blaine informs Sebastian sharply, turning his head cautiously to find no sign of Jeremiah anywhere.

"I told you he was gone," Sebastian says, smirking when Blaine turns back to glare at him. "He must have recognized you from behind because he took off in the other direction almost five minutes ago. I don't blame him, your ass is pretty distinctive."

"You suck," Blaine says, whacking Sebastian's arm indignantly.

"What did you want to try and get him kicked out of a bar as well?" Sebastian asks, eyebrows arched high. "He's probably having nightmares about private school boys in blazers popping out from behind the jukebox right now."

"You are such a dick," Blaine scoffs, glaring as he takes a long sip of beer. "Why didn't you tell me he left."

"When I had you all over me pretending to hide?" Sebastian asks, smirking over the top of his beer bottle. "I'm offended that you think so little of me, Killer."

“Why do I like you again?” Blaine asks, with a roll of his eyes.

Sebastian’s eyebrows arch up, his lips curving into a smirk as he asks, “You like me?”

Blaine can feel the blush crawling up his cheeks and he is tempted to just take another sip of his beer and hope that Sebastian lets it go, but he is ultimately disappointed as Sebastian steps into his space, head dipped low and his voice mocking as he says, “Now are we talking _like_ like or just like, Anderson. Let’s be specific, here. Because you really seemed to like it the other day when I -”

The urge to go find a very dark, very quiet hole to crawl into growing stronger by the minute, Blaine rolls his eyes and looks away, taking a long sip of his beer before he says, "I'm liking you less by the minute."

"Now that I don't believe," Sebastian replies, smirking over at him and taking a sip from his drink before he adds, "Come on Anderson, I thought you wanted to dance."

Blaine rolls his eyes a little, unable to stop from smiling as Sebastian catches him by the hand and coaxes him back out onto the dance floor.

\--

Blaine is more than a little buzzed, waving Sebastian off when he goes to get another drink and instead leaning against a wall to cool down away from the dance floor. 

His shirt is already unbuttoned to his collarbone, the tails of his bowtie fluttering loosely around his neck and his hair is starting to defy the gel, stubbornly curling away from his head, but even out of the thick of things he is still too warm. 

It is quieter away from the dance floor and the bar, not quite so densely populated. There are a few more of the flannel shirts and grumpy expressions over here and he can feel people looking at him, but Blaine ignores it because the quiet is welcome. 

He is starting to feel a little better, the overbearing heat settling, when he sees someone step up beside him from the corner of his eye. He turns to look, frowning a little at the sight of a strangely familiar baseball cap before it registers who it is.

The expression on Karofsky's face is unreadable, bordering on sullen as he asks, "Does your boyfriend know you're here with _him_?"

There is something about Karofsky that unsettles him, that digs in beneath Blaine's skin and makes him uncomfortable and defensive. The knowledge of what he had put Kurt through had never quite balanced out the turnaround Kurt had insisted he had made.

And Blaine knows that it probably isn't entirely fair, that his own perceptions are colored by memories of guys who were a lot like Karofsky who made his life hell and put him in the hospital just because they could, but he can't help the way his shoulders curl up defensively in his presence.

"Not that it's any of your business," Blaine says stiffly, turning his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the tense set of Karofsky's jaw, "But Kurt and I broke up."

Apparently he doesn't quite get the hint that Blaine doesn't want to talk about it, his voice a little incredulous as he says, "You broke up with Kurt for him?"

"No," Blaine replies, turning to level a glare in his direction, taking a step back as his arms rise to fold across his chest defensively. 

Karofsky scoffs beneath his breath and Blaine can feel his eyes on him, even as he shifts uncomfortably and glances over in the direction of the bar in search of Sebastian.

"He's just going to fuck you and dump you, you know," Karofsky says after a moment, something decidedly ugly in his voice. "He does it to everyone."

"And I'm still failing to see how this is any of your business," Blaine replies, turning back to glare up at him.

"Kurt deserves better than being dumped because _he_ wants a trophy fuck," Karofsky replies, digging his hands into his pockets and scowling down at him. 

"You are the last person in the world that Kurt needs to defend his honor," Blaine says coldly, his fingers digging hard into his arms as he stands up straight, trying to ignore how Karofsky looms over him. "And my relationships are none of your concern."

"What's it like getting everything you want without even having to try?" Karofsky replies, the hint of anger in his voice turning decidedly bitter. 

"You don't know me," Blaine replies, the discomfort that has been roiling in his chest taking a turn towards anger. "Do you think that apologizing to Kurt makes what you did okay? What about everyone else you ever bullied or pushed around?"

It is the hand on his shoulder that pulls him back, the simmering anger sinking down as he looks back and finds Sebastian standing behind him. "Easy there, Anderson, you going to get us kicked out of here as well?"

Blaine rolls his eyes, a little embarrassed that he had let Karofsky get under his skin so easily and says, "I didn't actually get anyone kicked out."

"Only because he fled before you could get to him, though now I see why," Sebastian replies as he steps in closer, tipping his head and glancing disinterestedly at Karofsky before looking back to Blaine. "Come on, lets get back to the fun part of the party."

"Right," Blaine replies, determinedly not so much as looking back over his shoulder as Sebastian catches his elbow and starts to guide him back in the direction of the dance floor.

They are barely out of earshot before Sebastian snorts, "Were you actually trying to get your ass kicked, Anderson? That guy is like three times your size."

"He's a jerk," Blaine replies darkly.

"And you apparently have no survival instincts," Sebastian replies. "He looked about two minutes away from decking you and I don't know about you but I'm not interested in spending my New Year’s in an ER."

"I can take a punch," Blaine replies, setting his jaw stubbornly at the amused expression on Sebastian's face.

"It would be a crime to let him ruin that face with those hamhocks," Sebastian replies as he tugs Blaine a little closer, hands sliding down his spine to rest low on his back, thumbs hooking beneath the waistband of his jeans.

"I'll have you know I started the Dalton branch of Fight Club," Blaine insists, pointedly ignoring the snort of laughter he receives in response as the space between them disappears.

"How come I've never heard about this," Sebastian replies, lips quirking upwards.

"We got disbanded after a month for not following the school's club policy," Blaine admits with a frown, "But I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"That is possibly the most tragic story I've ever heard," Sebastian laughs against his ear, hands drifting lower until he is sliding them into the back pockets of Blaine’s jeans and smirking down at him. "Nicholas Sparks should watch his back."

"Shut up," Blaine grumbles, rolling his eyes and trying not to smile.

"What's the deal with you and Boo-Boo anyway?" Sebastian asks after a moment, "He keeps looking at you like you stole his favorite picnic basket."

Blaine bites back the laugh, though from the amused expression on Sebastian's face he wasn't entirely successful, before sighing as he says, "It's kind of a Kurt thing."

Sebastian nods slowly, the expression on his face unreadable for a moment before the smirk abruptly resurfaces and that is all the warning Blaine gets before Sebastian squeezes his grip on Blaine's ass.

The entirely undignified yelp of surprise that escapes Blaine's lips makes Sebastian smirk all the wider, his head dipping lower as he says, "This isn't a Kurt thing though, is it?"

"No," Blaine agrees, ignoring the slightly smug cast to Sebastian's lips as he rocks up onto his toes to kiss him. It definitely isn't.

\--

When the countdown starts they are in the middle of the dance floor, jammed so tightly together that Blaine feels like he could hardly move even if he wanted to. 

The roar of voices rises around them as Blaine pushes up onto his toes, tugging Sebastian down by the back of his neck and closing his eyes, heart thumping a little louder when he realizes can feel the curve of Sebastian's smile against his lips. 

The slick slide of their lips together tastes like the hint of lime from whatever the last drink he had was, it lasts up until Sebastian leans forward; tipping him off balance enough that he has to grab fistfuls of Sebastian's shirt just to stay upright and his mouth opens up in protest. Sebastian takes immediate advantage, his tongue dipping inside and drawing Blaine closer as the crowd around them celebrates.

"Happy New Year’s," Blaine says a little breathlessly as they finally break apart.

"I guess we'll see about that," Sebastian replies, tipping his head and smirking down at him.

\--

When Blaine wakes the next morning it’s with the utmost certainty that he must be in the process of dying. His head throbs miserably if he so much as cracks open his eyes and his tongue feels thick and dry in his mouth. 

It has gotten to the point where a part of him is seriously considering the benefits of never getting out of bed or moving ever again when he realizes that he isn’t alone. Blaine rolls his head to the side, wincing at the glare of light through the open window and squints at the sight of Sebastian perched on the edge of the bed, wearing only a pair of jeans and drinking a glass of water.

"How's the head?" Sebastian asks after a moment, sounding entirely too cheerful for anyone who had matched Blaine drink for drink last night and smirking when Blaine decides he has had enough and tries to burrow further into his pillows.

"Where'm I?" Blaine grunts when he realizes Sebastian has no intention whatsoever of going away.

"My dad keeps an apartment in Lima for when he's working over this way," Sebastian replies and Blaine is more than a little disgruntled by just how amused he seems to be by Blaine's utter misery. "I crash here sometimes when I've had too much to drink."

"Your dad let's you just stay here whenever you want?" Blaine asks in surprise, shifting a little so he can glimpse the long, strong line of Sebastian’s back from the corner of his eye, because if his eyes are going to protest even being open he may as well have a decent view while he is at it.

"That's not what I said," Sebastian replies with another twist of his lips, draining the last of his water before he gets to his feet.

"Oh god," Blaine groans suddenly, eyes widening with realization as he starts to sit up and adds a miserable, “My _parents_.”

"Oh yeah, they wish you a Happy New Year," Sebastian replies, sounding entirely unconcerned despite the way that Blaine cranes his head to glower at him. "What? Your parents love me. They think I'm your responsible friend."

Blaine stares at him, eyes narrowing into something that he hopes is only mildly horrified as he says, “You called my _parents_.”

"No. Your mom called your phone and I answered," Sebastian corrects him, turning to look down at him with that same wide smile that is becoming more unsettling by the moment. "You should be grateful, Anderson. I've never been the responsible friend before."

"I wonder why," Blaine replies, burying his face back into the pillows with every intention of just going back to sleep and ignoring everything when he hears Sebastian scoff with amusement, the soft pad of bare feet against the floor before the covers disappear with a dramatic flourish.

He is suddenly, intimately aware that somewhere along the line he had lost both his pants and his shirt and that it is actually _really_ cold without the blankets. He wonders if Sebastian had slept in this bed too. Blaine has only vague, half-remembered memories from last night of frenzied kisses and tumbling into Sebastian’s lap in only his underwear.

Blaine curls in on himself, shivering as he grumbles, “I really don’t like you.”

"That's not what you were saying last night," Sebastian replies easily, tossing Blaine’s pants at him and smirking at the indignant squawk Blaine makes when they nearly hit him in the face. "Come on, Anderson, we're getting coffee."

"I don't want coffee," Blaine grumbles back, scowling as he rolls over to better glare up at him, cradling his pants against his chest.

Sebastian laughs to himself, cocking his head to the side as he mocks, "Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear from you."

"Very funny," Blaine grumbles as he eases himself up into a sitting position and winces when his head throbs violently.

"Luckily for you," Sebastian says as he strides around to the other side of the bed, rifling through a drawer and coming out with a faded OSU t-shirt that he quickly drags over his head, "I'm also very generous. There's water and Tylenol on the bedside table."

Blaine makes a truly pathetic noise of gratitude and rolls over to reach for the glass and pills that he finds sitting exactly where Sebastian had said they would be. "I’ve changed my mind," Blaine decides after gulping down half of the glass, "I do like you after all."

“Fickle,” Sebastian replies, smirking as he moves back to the edge of the bed and looks down at him before he says, "Up you get, Anderson. If you're lucky I'll even let you pay for our coffee."

\--

By the time they make it to the Lima Bean, Blaine is starting to feel just a little bit more like an actual human being. He had drunk two more glasses of water and Sebastian had lent him a shirt that didn’t smell like a brewery (though not without smirking over how far Blaine had to roll back the sleeves.) His hair is probably still an unsalvageable mess but he had at least tried to slick it back into something semi-respectable with water before they left. 

The smell of coffee grinds is an assault on his senses as they shuffle inside, Blaine grimacing at the rattle of cups and the hiss of the espresso machine at the counter. It is all a little too loud and a little too much for him to want to deal with, but Sebastian only smirks wider when he sees the unenthused expression on Blaine’s face and plants a hand on his shoulder to guide him forward.

It is already busy, the tables full of similarly miserable patrons nursing their drinks with bloodshot eyes. Sebastian tugs him towards the counter without even a second glance at the menu board, a move that Blaine instantly regrets the moment he realizes who is standing directly in front of them in the line.

Blaine likes Mike a lot and he may not know Tina particularly well (though she had always been friendly to him whenever they did end up at the same places), but he is almost certain that the last people on earth he wants to run into while he is hungover and with Sebastian is anybody from the New Directions. Hoping that they won't notice him and that Sebastian, in turn, won't recognize them, Blaine tries to stifle a yawn behind his hand and pointedly ignores the smirk Sebastian directs his way.

It all seems to be going pretty smoothly, Mike and Tina order their drinks and disappear to the fixings station without incident while Blaine steps up to the counter next to Sebastian to order. They are almost home free, relief starting to settle in at such a near miss, and he is just stuffing his change into the tips jar when he turns around to find Tina standing right behind him.

The sound he makes isn’t particularly dignified and his eyes widen as she raises a finger to point at him and says, " _You!_ "

It’s only mildly accusatory, like she isn't entirely sure why she is supposed to be mad at him other than on sheer principle, but Blaine's mouth drops open for a good ten seconds before he can bring himself to say, "Tina, hi."

"Don't you ' _Tina, hi_ ' me, Blaine Warbler," she replies, her finger inching dangerously close to his nose. "I'm on to you."

That makes his forehead wrinkle for a moment in confusion, his mouth opening to object before he realizes he isn’t exactly sure what he is being accused of.

"Tina, what are you -" Blaine hears from over her shoulder before Mike appears there, his eyes widening with surprise when he catches sight of Blaine. 

"Oh, hey Blaine."

It is surprisingly neutral, accompanied by a small smile and a wave that Blaine returns before Tina turns around to scowl up at him and say, "Oh no you don't, Michael Chang. You remember what Finn and Rachel said. No fraternizing with the enemy."

"You don't think that they were overreacting a little?" Mike asks, "I know they broke up, sorry about that by the way, but it's still just Blaine."

Blaine smiles wider, the prospect that not everyone in the New Directions completely hates him making him feel just a little bit better, right up until the moment that Sebastian steps up behind him, a hand sliding down Blaine's back and into his back pocket as he says, "Keen observational skills you have there."

He sees the exact moment that Tina's eyes widen, her eyes fixing on Sebastian and following where his hand is disappearing behind Blaine's back, and he knows that within half an hour every single member of the New Directions will have heard about this entire encounter in excruciating detail. 

Mike sends him a vaguely apologetic grimace before saying, "We should probably get going."

Blaine nods awkwardly, raising a hand to wave goodbye and trying to ignore the heat rising up the back of his neck as Sebastian pointedly squeezes his grip on Blaine's ass, smiling a little too widely at them as they slip past. Tina turning her head to frown over her shoulder in disapproval and Blaine resists the urge to bury his face in Sebastian's shoulder only because he thinks he would probably rather hit him instead.

"Thanks for that," Blaine grumbles sarcastically beneath his breath as they move around to pick up their drinks.

"You're welcome," Sebastian replies, sounding far too amused. "She'll be much happier now that she actually has something juicy to report back about."

Blaine sighs, eyeing him in mild annoyance until their drinks are set on the counter and Sebastian slides his hand back out of Blaine's pocket with an entirely unapologetic shrug. "So what are we drinking today?" Blaine asks after a moment.

"One Americano," Sebastian says grabbing the cup in hand before gesturing for Blaine to take the other, turning evasively towards the fixings station as he adds, "And one medium drip."

It takes a moment for it to register but when it does the smile surprises him, breaking wide cross his face before he can stop it, and his voice comes out far too pleased as he says, "You know my coffee order."

Sebastian laughs, eyebrows flying up as he says, “I’m pretty sure your coffee order is the world’s worst kept secret, Anderson.”

The smile refuses to subside, if anything twitching wider as Blaine follows Sebastian over to the fixings station, head tilting to the side as he says, "Wait a second, what happened to ' _isn't it boring getting the same thing every time you go somewhere’_?"

Blaine thinks he sees something vaguely sheepish cross Sebastian’s face before it vanishes and Sebastian shrugs, his lips curling a little in the corner as he says, "Hangover remedies don’t count."

"Sure," Blaine replies, eyebrows inching upwards in amusement as he takes another step closer to Sebastian. "So if I was to say I want the Americano -"

"You would have to pry it from my cold, dead hands," Sebastian replies dryly, blatantly ignoring the soft laughter that follows behind him as he starts to make his way through the tables towards one off in the corner.

" _You_ have a coffee order," Blaine declares, the wide smile on his face starting to almost hurt as Sebastian rolls his eyes as he tugs a chair out from the table and sinks into it.

"I have a _hangover_ coffee preference," Sebastian replies, seemingly unphased as he leans back in his seat.

"Nope, you definitely have a coffee order," Blaine repeats with emphasis, feeling considerably brighter as he sinks down into his seat and sighs before taking a long sip of his coffee.

"You got me," Sebastian deadpans in return, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip of his own coffee. "You’ve figured out my darkest secret, Anderson. Well done."

Blaine snorts with laughter, feeling a little more awake with every sip and by the time the coffee is finished and Sebastian is busy entirely fabricating the story of how Blaine had nearly gotten them kicked out of the bar through trying to start a bar brawl, their encounter with Tina and Mike is entirely forgotten.

\--


	6. Chapter 6

\--

 

Dalton is subdued in the wake of the holidays, a post-Christmas gloom settling in that has most of the student body grouchy and not the least bit pleased about returning to their classes. 

It is why he isn’t at all surprised to see the expression on Jeff's face is bordering on gloomy as he shuffles over to join Blaine on his way to Biology, his greeting of, "Hey," sounding about as miserable as he looks.

"Hey," Blaine replies, trying his best to school the smile that seems to pop up when he least expects it to at the moment. "How was your Christmas?"

Jeff sighs loudly, fingers toying dejectedly with the strap of his bag as he says, "Okay I guess."

"It sounds like it," Sebastian says as he appears on Blaine's other side, glancing over at Jeff with raised eyebrows. "What, did your dog die or?"

The frown on Jeff's face turns confused, his nose wrinkling as he says, "I don't have a dog."

Blaine bites down on his lower lip as the smile escapes, shooting a reproving look in Sebastian's direction that ends up as something far less intimidating than he had hoped if the smirk he receives in response is any indication before Sebastian hooks an arm around Blaine's shoulders.

The eyebrow he quirks in Sebastian's direction goes blatantly unacknowledged, Sebastian’s fingers curling in beneath the lapels of Blaine’s blazer and absently dragging along the seam as he shifts closer into the solid warmth pressed to his side.

Blaine remembers how tentative he and Kurt had been after their first kiss, how holding hands in the hallways had seemed so daring to them. There is something very welcome about just how forward Sebastian is about touch. 

When Blaine glances away from Sebastian it is to find Jeff watching them with raised eyebrows. "What?" Blaine asks, shifting a little beneath Sebastian's arm as he curls his own arm around Sebastian's back. 

"Nothing," Jeff replies immediately, rolling his eyes as he shoves his hands into his pockets before sighing gloomily again. "I guess I just owe Nick some money now."

\--

Blaine isn’t entirely sure what he and Sebastian are supposed to be.

The word boyfriend has yet to come up between them, stilling on Blaine’s tongue whenever he feels like he might just get around to asking, because, in truth, he doesn’t really know what it it is that Sebastian wants from him. 

From Kurt’s (and apparently _Karofsky’_ s) assurances that Sebastian is only interested in sex, to Cooper’s and even his parents inexplicable fondness for him, it is starting to feel like everyone else has an opinion on who Sebastian is, but Blaine just doesn’t know. 

He does know that he falls too easily and too deeply and that he is, inevitably, the one who always seems to end up getting burned, but he likes Sebastian. Blaine can admit to himself now that he likes him more and has liked him for longer than he probably should, but every time he tells himself that he is just going to suck it up and ask what they are he lets himself get distracted.

Sebastian, he is coming to find, is very good at being a distraction.

In spite of Blaine’s confusion on the matter, the rest of the student body don’t seem to have any such qualms about whether they are together or not - and it isn’t like they have been giving them any cause to doubt it.

During the brief period of time while he had been dating Kurt while he was still at Dalton, they had been careful and discreet. They had held hands in the hallways but had never kissed unless it was behind closed doors. It had been something hidden behind the full to bursting happiness in his chest and shared smiles whenever they crossed paths.

Blaine is pretty sure that the word discreet (and anything remotely synonymous with it) has never existed in Sebastian's vocabulary.

The first time he tugs Blaine in beneath the staircase and into a kiss, ignoring the stifled noise of confusion Blaine makes against his lips in favor of sliding his hands up the back of Blaine's shirt, Blaine realizes that holding hands in the hallways isn't exactly Sebastian's style.

It isn't that Blaine minds, exactly. 

He has spent a long time trying to be as unthreatening as he possibly can at Dalton. A part of him has always taken the refuge of the blazer as a privilege, the sense of belonging it gives him something he had earned through that ugly year he had spent at Ada High.

But there is a part of him that has always felt like that caution, the way he checks himself before he touches another guy, like even here at Dalton he is still a little bit terrified that the wrong person might get the wrong idea if he so much as looks at them funny, is letting them win. 

Sebastian barely seems to notice the looks they get sometimes when he pushes into Blaine's personal space in the hallways, sliding his hands into Blaine’s back pockets or kissing him outside their Biology classroom as an experiment to see if he can possibly make Archer like Blaine less. 

Blaine admires how unrelentingly certain of himself Sebastian seems at all times, like he couldn’t care less about the opinions behind those expressions. He likes how smart Sebastian is and how he always has a quick response on the end of his tongue. Blaine likes his smile when he laughs and his stupidly pretty eyes, the freckles and beauty marks that are scattered like constellations across his skin. 

More than any of that, maybe, he likes the way that Sebastian makes him feel. 

And maybe it is a little bit foolish, to be investing in something with so few guarantees, but Blaine has never been particularly smart when it comes to romance anyway.

\--

There is a new sense of urgency in the air by the time the first Warbler rehearsal rolls around.

Blaine can’t quite put his finger on what it is, if it had been the unexpected appearance of Kurt, Rachel and Finn appearing at the showcase or if there is something else entirely going on, but there is a new edge of competition in the group. They had set the bar high for themselves at Sectionals but he and Sebastian have both agreed that they can do better and not a single Warbler complains when Sebastian reveals their new rehearsal schedule.

Echoes of being told to prepare to lose have taken on a new meaning in his head, a sense of determination fuelled by the feeling that he has something to prove, though he isn’t exactly sure to who. His friends, maybe, who he had promised a trip to Nationals this year. To Sebastian, maybe, that Dalton is where his heart is. And maybe even to himself a little, looking for proof that Dalton doesn’t have to just be the safety net his parents insist he needs.

It feels like he spends half his time humming melodies beneath his breath looking for the perfect song to show off the best of their talents, tapping beats against the pages of his textbooks during classes between the notes he takes. 

They spend two weeks debating song suggestions over lunch and during rehearsals, Blaine trying not to smile too widely as Sebastian rubs lazy circles into his hip or splays a hand at the base of his spine and maybe his favorite part of all of it is how nobody at all seems to even care. 

Mostly, Blaine feels like they are finally starting to see exactly how they work as a team and that, more than anything, makes him feel like maybe they really do have a chance at winning this year.

\--

Blaine knows that something is going on.

Sebastian has been up to something for days now, walking around with a smile that is just a little bit smugger than usual and the other Warblers have been evasive, going out of their way to avoid Blaine’s questions whenever he tries to corner them.

It isn’t like he is worried, exactly. If it was something big, Blaine is positive that Sebastian would tell him. 

Whatever it is that is going on, Blaine is almost entirely certain that it is nothing for him to be concerned about.

Almost.

\--

The dorms are deserted at this time of day, the entire building empty save for the occasional student dropping in to pick up forgotten homework or textbooks before their next class. It is far too warm with both the door and the window shut, the blinds drawn low to avoid drawing attention, and it is so quiet that every noise seems to echo, painfully loud in the empty air. 

From the embarrassing little whine he makes as Sebastian nips at his lips, to the soft hum that vibrates up his throat as Sebastian’s hands slide in beneath his shirt, he can’t seem to stifle any of them. 

Their blazers have already been hastily discarded, tossed carelessly in the direction of James’ bed (and Blaine seriously, _seriously_ , hopes that his roommate hasn’t forgotten anything today) and he knows that there was something he had planned on asking Sebastian but then they had somehow ended up outside of the dorms instead of walking to the dining hall and that, really, had been it. 

Blaine isn’t entirely sure how he ends up tugging Sebastian into his dorm room, the length of his tie threaded through his fingers, except that they are missing lunch and he is almost certain he is going to get hell for this from someone later. The frantic slide of their lips has turned to tugging at each other’s shirts and now, somehow, they have managed to squish themselves onto the tiny school issue bed that Sebastian is miles too big for, Sebastian crouched over him and a hand is snaking down Blaine’s stomach while he pants into Sebastian’s mouth.

He is starting to realize that, when it comes to Sebastian, there really aren’t any good explanations for what he ends up doing. 

It is as Sebastian’s lips migrate to his neck and his thumb drags over the button on Blaine’s slacks that he remembers, his fingers stilling for just a moment in their slow descent down Sebastian’s spine as he says, “I know you’re up to something.”

There is a huff of laughter against his neck, the heat sliding over his skin before Sebastian presses his lips there, hooking a finger into one of Blaine’s belt loops and tugging pointedly as he says, “I would have thought that was obvious, Anderson.”

“Not this,” Blaine replies with a laugh, sliding his hands down Sebastian’s back to settle over his ass and ignoring the smirk he gets in response. “I mean - I know you’re planning something, Smythe. I’m onto you.”

Sebastian hums beneath his breath, thumb circling the button on Blaine’s slacks slowly as he says, “No idea what you’re talking about.”

The roll of Blaine’s eyes is cut short by Sebastian’s fingers skittering across the dip of his waist and laughter bubbles up Blaine’s throat as he tries to squirm away. Sebastian persists, lips falling to the dip of his collarbone as his fingers trace the bare skin within his reach, his own laughter echoing Blaine’s.

Blaine reaches around to try and swat the hands away, laughter dying as Sebastian’s hands catch his wrists and pin them over his head, the warm curve of his smile somehow endearing as he leans in to claim a kiss. 

“I’m going to find out what it is,” Blaine insists, though he expects the impact is softened by the smile he can’t seem to keep from his face.

He gets only another laugh in response, that same too smug smile crawling across Sebastian’s lips as he presses in for another kiss and says, “Good luck with that.”

\--

It all comes to a head on Wednesday afternoon.

Blaine is utterly bemused to find the Warblers already in formation when he arrives for rehearsal, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he hesitates in the entryway and notices how hard they all seem to be trying not to smile. He laughs a little, eyeing them warily as they stay where they are standing and circles around them to discard his satchel on one of the couches before asking, “Do I even want to know?”

“We’re just waiting on a few guests,” Sebastian replies from where he is standing in the center of the formation, glancing down at his watch and not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face as he glances over at Blaine and adds, “I suggest you take a seat, Anderson. You won’t want to miss this.”

Hesitating for a moment as he battles with the decision of whether he wants to ask what that is supposed to mean, Blaine settles for unwinding Sebastian’s scarf from his neck and unbuttoning his coat, folding it over the arm of the sofa and watching as Sebastian checks his watch again. He has just settled down on the edge of the arm of the couch, wondering what exactly is going on, when they start to sing.

The song is instantly recognizable, his lips curling just a little because it is one of his favorite Jackson 5 songs and they sound good on it as well, far more practiced than they should be considering the song isn’t even supposed to be in their repertoire. He does his absolute best to school his expression as Sebastian starts to sing, moving out from amidst the rest of the Warblers and right over to Blaine.

He is seemingly spurred on by Blaine’s attempts to seem unimpressed as he drags a thumb down the length of Blaine’s tie, eyes fixed and warm until Blaine cracks, the smile breaking across his face as he rolls his eyes and Sebastian draws back, victorious.

It is also around about the moment that Blaine realizes they are no longer alone.

Standing in the doorway are four members of the New Directions, every single one of them staring with varying levels of anger and suspicion at them. Something cold courses down his spine, his smile faltering as he sees the betrayal spelled out across Kurt’s face.

Blaine doesn’t know why they are here and he has no idea why they seem so angry, but he suddenly knows exactly why Sebastian had picked this song. He watches Sebastian sing a line each to Santana and Rachel before he moves back into formation, his eyes fixed on Blaine’s again.

There is something so incredibly cruel about it, about seeing the anger apparent on Kurt’s face as Sebastian advances back into Blaine’s space singing about jealousy and regret with that smug, oh so pointed smile on his face. Feeling the eyes locked on them as Sebastian drags a thumb across Blaine’s jawline and presses in so close to him as he rolls his hips that Blaine can feel the heat coming off of his body.

It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, his eyes wide with uncertainty as he glances from where Sebastian is singing his heart out and back to the stony expression on Kurt’s face. 

Blaine starts to stand as the song comes to an end, hesitating where he is when Sebastian glances over at him with a wide smile before his eyes turn back to where the New Directions are still standing together in the entryway and saying, “Well, if you guys want to forfeit now, go ahead, or you can wait and see how quickly we crush you at Regionals when Blaine is singing with us.”

There is a moment of uneasy silence as they wait for someone to break, Blaine shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he glances in the direction of the door before Kurt speaks, his voice clipped and angry as he says, “You know, I really expected more than that. I guess we all know how you got to Regionals now.”

A ripple of emotion spreads through the Warblers and Blaine watches as Sebastian’s face turns cold then angry, quickly hidden behind a sneer as Kurt turns to look over at Blaine, his eyes sharp as he says, “I thought you were better than that.”

Blaine takes a step towards the group at the door, hesitating when Sebastian tries to regain control of the situation, his eyes narrowed as he calls out, “And what did you think, Shaqueera?”

Santana scoffs, her ponytail flicking over her shoulder in agitation as she sneers, “If that’s your best MJ, Fievel, I’m going to wipe the floor with you _and_ your funsized boyfriend at Regionals.” 

She turns on her heel, grabbing the handles on Artie’s wheelchair and starts pushing and Blaine can hear the murmurs of the Warblers, Sebastian’s forced laughter amongst them, but his eyes stick to where Rachel has slipped her arm through Kurt’s to tug him off after Santana and Artie. He feels a little sick, especially when Kurt turns his head and meets Blaine’s eyes.

Before he knows it Blaine is crossing the room, ignoring the curious calls of his fellow Warblers as he breaks into a jog to try and catch up to them, calling out, “Kurt, wait -”

It seems like they are just going to ignore him, Kurt’s shoulders hunching up a little as he walks, but when he calls out a second time Kurt slips his arm free of Rachel’s in order to turn to face him. The expression on his face is so angry that Blaine stops dead, his eyes widening as Kurt snaps, “Really classy, Blaine. Was that all his idea or did you add a few touches of your own?”

“I didn’t know,” Blaine replies, digging his hands into his pockets and feeling his stomach churn with guilt when he realizes that Kurt doesn’t seem to believe him at all. “I’m so, so -”

“You’re sorry?” Kurt scoffs, folding his arms uncomfortably across his chest and narrowing his eyes. “You know what Blaine? I feel sorry for _you_ because you’re still too dumb to realize that Sebastian is just using you. As soon as he gets bored he’s going to dump you and then what will you have left?”

Blaine’s mouth drops open, the sinking feeling in his chest stealing away his voice for all of a moment before he says, “I just - I came out here to apologize, okay.”

“Well you can save your ‘sorrys’ for when we beat you at Regionals, Scrappy Doo,” Santana interrupts, turning back to glare over her shoulder. “Oh, and be sure to let Andrew McCarthy know that this is _so_ not over. You song stealing, preppy douchebags aren’t going to get away with stealing our ideas, no matter how rich your daddies are.”

Rachel grabs hold of Kurt’s arm again, glancing over her shoulder only long enough to frown at him before they start walking again. Blaine watches them go, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he realizes that Kurt doesn’t look back even once.

He is still standing there when Sebastian appears, eyebrows raised as he teases, “We were starting to wonder if you were ever planning on coming back, Anderson.”

Blaine breathes out slowly, feeling suddenly like he has been frozen solid for years, his hands trembling at his sides before he curls his arms around himself and tucks them out of sight. His voice is strained and quiet when he asks, “Why did you do that?”

“I figured if they were so desperate to see us perform, we may as well give them a decent show,” Sebastian replies, taking a step in and curling his hands around Blaine’s arms. 

“That’s not how the Warblers do things,” Blaine replies quietly, frowning down at his shoes as he tries to make sense of the tangle of his thoughts. “Santana said we stole their idea.”

Sebastian watches him with a strange expression on his face before he tugs lightly at Blaine’s arm to get him to move, pulling him across the hall and into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind them before turning to face him.

Blaine shifts uncomfortably, curling his arms further around himself and looking down at his toes as Sebastian moves back into his personal space, his voice light as he says, “I was just messing with them. They were discussing their top secret plans about wanting to do Michael Jackson for Regionals in the middle of the Lima Bean at an obnoxious volume, so I told them we changed our setlist and set this up with the guys.”

He stares up at Sebastian in disbelief before he takes a step back, Sebastian mirroring the move and rolling his eyes as he says, “Come on, Blaine, it was a joke. I honestly can’t believe they took it so seriously.”

“And that performance in there, was that a joke as well?” Blaine finds himself asking, his fingers digging into his sides as Sebastian stares down at him, the smile dropping away from his face as he seems to realize that Blaine is actually serious.

“It was just a bit of fun,” Sebastian replies, tilting his head curiously to the side as he presses in closer, his hands sliding down Blaine’s arms to rest on his waist. “I knew you wouldn’t be into it so I didn’t ask you. Just, trust me, okay, Hummel brought that on himself.”

“It was cruel,” Blaine replies, shaking his head. “Kurt didn’t deserve that.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows hitch upward, his grasp on Blaine’s waist tightening just a little as he says, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you heard what they’ve been saying about you.”

His breath catches in his throat, the hesitation long enough for Sebastian to stoop forward to kiss him, hands sliding around to his back. Blaine frowns, making a noise of protest and Sebastian nips lightly at his lower lip. The roll of his eyes resulting in an almost amused hum as Sebastian raises a hand to tip his head back, his thumb rolling lazily across Blaine’s cheekbone until Blaine begins to kiss back in earnest.

Blaine’s hands reach up to fist in the lapels of Sebastian’s blazer, pushing up onto the balls of his feet and focusing on the slow slide of Sebastian’s palms down the length of his spine, rucking up beneath his blazer and teasing at the waistband of his pants. It is easier to focus on this than to think about the mess Sebastian has made of everything with the New Directions and the part of him that has always kind of hoped that maybe, given enough time, he and Kurt could be friends again being dashed to pieces over some stupid, unfunny joke.

A hand slides down the back of his pants and Blaine can feel the shape of Sebastian’s smirk against his lips at the soft whine that crawls up the back of his throat, past the frenzied slide of their lips. Blaine’s hands grab at Sebastian’s shoulders, sliding in beneath his blazer to squeeze at the muscle there while Sebastian crowds him back towards the door.

His shoulders hit the door with a thump and he lets out another whine as Sebastian closes in, fingers skimming the crease of his thighs before digging in hard enough to earn a yelp. There is a huff of laughter against his mouth and Blaine whacks at his shoulder before sliding a hand up into Sebastian’s hair, tilting his head to a better angle so he can push up into the kiss.

The feeling of Sebastian’s thumb skimming over the thin fabric of his underwear, dragging down the crease of his ass makes him squirm, laughter trapped in his throat as a shiver rolls up his spine. The stirring of interest in his dick drags his hips forward, sucking slow at Sebastian’s lips and feeling warmth settle in his stomach, fingers curling into Sebastian’s hair when the bell rings, echoing loud and sudden through the halls.

His eyes flutter open, surprised when Sebastian draws back just a fraction, breathing heavily and a hint of colour in his cheeks. There is something strange in the expression on his face, something about the look in his eyes that Blaine can’t quite decipher before he pulls back entirely, hand sliding back out of his Blaine’s pants and reaching up to straighten his blazer.

Blaine drops back onto his heels, the worst of the anger having mostly drained away, though he still glowers up at Sebastian as he steps back to give Blaine space, his breathing still not quite settled as he says, “I’m still mad at you, you know.”

“Really?” Sebastian replies, eyebrows raised high is faux-astonishment, “I never would have guessed.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, reaching up to pinch at Sebastian’s side and watching him squirm back as he tries not to laugh. “I’m serious. We’re supposed to be co-captains and you went behind my back to the team about this.”

Sebastian’s hand reaches out, smirking as he tugs on the hem of Blaine’s blazer to get it to sit right and his voice light as he says, “Well, if it makes you feel any better Anderson, I’m sorry your sad little Ex can’t take a joke.”

“That’s not an apology,” Blaine replies, rolling his eyes as he slides his hands around to tuck his shirt in properly.

“Funny,” Sebastian says, his hands sliding into his pockets as he steps back. “You seem awfully offended on their behalf.”

Sighing, Blaine reaches up to rub a hand over his face, the smile he shoots back at Sebastian a little tired as he says, “I just - I want the Warblers to win because we’re the best. Because we worked hard and we deserve it. Not because of any mindgames. We’re better than that.”

“And we will win,” Sebastian agrees after a moment, studying Blaine thoughtfully before he says with a begrudging roll of his eyes, “I promise I’ll leave the New Directions alone from now on, scout’s honor.”

“You were a boy scout?” Blaine asks dubiously, unable to stop the little twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips as he turns to open the door and receives a loud snort of response.

“No,” Sebastian replies, following Blaine out the door and falling into step next to him, a hand settling low on Blaine’s back as he adds, “But I hooked up with one once. That counts doesn’t it?”

Blaine chokes back the laugh that threatens to spill out of his mouth, determinedly ignoring the smug expression on Sebastian’s face and biting down on his lower lip as he looks away.

He knows that he should probably still be mad and that nothing has really been solved; Sebastian’s apologies (if you could really call them that) were less than sincere and only really an attempt to mollify him, but however ridiculous they were he is at least certain that Sebastian had meant it when he said he would leave the New Directions alone from now on. 

And maybe, if he is really lucky, the whole mess will all just blow over. 

\--

In short, it doesn’t.

\--

Blaine doesn’t exactly know how he ends up in a deserted parking garage in Lima, wedged in between Sebastian and Nick’s shoulders and wondering how they had gotten to this point. He is pretty sure he will still be trying to make sense of it long after this night is over.

A cryptic text message laced with insults and an address had led to an unexpected amount of anger from the Warblers on his behalf that he can’t really understand, something that Blaine suspects has to do with the reason they agreed to sing that Jackson Five song in the first place, but none of it really explains why they are there.

Blaine is sure there is nothing that could possibly be achieved in a deserted parking garage that they couldn’t solve through sitting down with each other at the Lima Bean at a more reasonable hour, but nobody else had seemed to agree with him. 

There is something in the stillness of the night, the dim lighting and the unforgiving slap and echo of cement beneath the soles of their shoes that makes him nervous. It stands just a little too close to a place and a night that still visits him in his sleep sometimes.

If Kurt had known, Blaine knows he would have changed the location.

Instead he curls his hands around his arms, eyes fixed straight ahead and trying to stamp down the sense of dread that feels like it is trying to claw it’s way out of his chest; that grinds in like a vice around his lungs if he lets it.

“Well, we’re here,” Sebastian says, arms gesturing expansively at his sides as Santana appears out of the night with Kurt at her side.

It is dark enough that the shadows render the expression on Kurt’s face entirely unreadable, his lips set in a thin line that Blaine can’t seem to decipher as he glances quickly at Blaine before looking away. 

Blaine knows this isn’t the same, he is surrounded by Warblers for a start and he knows that however bad things may have gotten between them nobody from the New Directions would ever actually _hurt_ him, but discomfort still crawls down his spine, his eyes drifting down to his feet as Santana says, “We have something to settle.”

“I guess we do,” Sebastian agrees, the hand that had been hanging lazily at his side planting low on Blaine’s back.

Kurt shifts at her side, his eyes hard and fixed determinedly on Sebastian’s face, unfaltering as he says, “Both of us want to use Michael for Regionals and only one of us can. Since you apparently don’t have the decency to respect our claim, we decided to sort this out the one way that you’ll actually understand.”

“We’re having a Jackson-Off, Nick at Nite,” Santana cuts in, looking just a little too pleased with herself as Sebastian’s eyebrows shoot up, “Winner gets the King of Pop for Regionals.”

There is silence for a moment, Blaine turning towards Sebastian with wide eyes to watch as his face shifts from surprise to something amused and then further into something mocking as he laughs, “You’re actually serious.”

It clearly isn’t the reaction they had been expecting, the subtle shift on Santana’s face and the way Kurt’s jaw clenches making Blaine shift back a little, thinking that maybe if Sebastian just admits that they never actually intended to sing Michael in the first place, they can just go their separate ways until Regionals. 

Blaine glances over at him hopefully, halfway to opening his mouth before Sebastian speaks again, bordering on laughter as he says, “What? Us against the two of you?” Sebastian’s voice is practically dripping with condescension as he says, “Do they not teach you how to count in that little public school of yours?”

“Sebastian,” Blaine starts to say, reaching out to grab his arm and staring down at his hand in surprise as he gets shrugged off.

“No, wait, I want to hear this,” Sebastian continues, his eyes fixed on the pair in front of them as other members of the New Directions start to appear out of the shadows. “Let me guess, you are all going to pretend that all of this drama is about a few Michael Jackson songs and a competition that is months away, aren’t you?”

Blaine watches as more faces appear out of the dark, some of them more familiar than others, his heart starting to thump louder in his chest because he is starting to realize just how badly he doesn’t want to be here. He looks hard at the rest of the group, trying to find a face amongst them that doesn’t look angry and his gaze sticks, for a moment on Puck.

If anything he looks bored, sipping absently from the giant slushie cup in his hand like he isn’t even bothering to try and keep up with what is happening.

“Why else would we be here?” Kurt scoffs and Blaine watches his defenses rise one by one, the uneasiness that has been rising in his chest growing worse by the moment.

He can hear the Warblers starting to get restless around him, the muttering from the back of the group that he can’t quite distinguish.

“It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it,” Sebastian laughs in return, his hand splaying wider across Blaine’s back, drawing him just a little closer to Sebastian’s side. 

“What are you even talking about?” Kurt snaps, his eyes dipping for just a moment to where Sebastian’s arm disappears behind Blaine before he adds, “You know what? I take a lot of crap from a lot of people, but I refuse to take it from you. You’re just another bully manipulating the people around you to get what you want and not a single one of them sees you for what you really are.”

Sebastian laughs, his voice echoing back off the walls as he says, “Really? That’s the big speech? Why don’t you just admit the truth, Hummel? You’re jealous.”

“Of you?” Kurt replies disbelievingly, “Don’t flatter yourself. When Blaine figures out what you really are he won’t be able to get away fast enough.”

It only gets worse. The insults growing louder and cutting a little deeper with each passing comment; the entire situation getting uglier by the minute. Soon Finn is stepping forward, advancing angrily to protest, then Santana as well, and one of the Warblers steps up beside Sebastian like they see a threat in those movements.

All Blaine feels are the heavy points of pressure at the small of his back, the sound of the fighting buzzing in his ears as he wonders what he is supposed to do, how he is supposed to make this stop because all of it is so stupid. Sebastian was right, really, this isn’t about Michael Jackson at all.

It is about one decision made so many months ago, about unrealistic expectations and Kurt never quite believing him. It is about trust broken and hurt that has been left to fester beneath the surface and has finally been let loose.

All Blaine really wants is for none of this to have ever happened at all.

He has never felt smaller or less important, less valued, than he does right now with two boys he cares about fighting over him like his own opinions or feelings don’t even seem to matter - and what he is starting to realize is that right now, to them, he doesn’t. Not more than satisfying their own egos.

Blaine thinks he is the only one who sees Puck move forward through the rest of the group, who watches him roll his eyes and scoff as he stalks forwards, tugging the lid off his slushie cup and Blaine starts forward, holding up a hand to try and stop him because the last thing they need is someone to do something stupid and escalate this further.

And really that is all it takes.

One red slushie; dripping down Sebastian’s face as he watches in shock, ice and syrup scattered across the concrete floor, the snap of bone as Blaine throws out a hand to try and catch himself from falling and the wet smack of his head as it bounces off the concrete.

\--

In the end, it doesn’t really matter how they got there or that it is a parking garage in Lima and not the parking lot outside a school gym in Ada. There is no music muffled by the distance and as he is lying on the ground in a pool of sticky red, his vision white and hazy echoes of people calling out going ignored, he realizes that the differences aren’t what matters.

None of it matters at all, really, except for the punchline (because this is a joke that always ends in the exact same way); with flashing lights and the reminder that it doesn’t matter how often his parents tell him to _be safe_ or that he is a wearing a Dalton uniform this time around. 

Blaine is always the one who ends up getting hurt.

\--

The first thing Blaine really remembers after is his father’s face, pale and tired, from where he is folded into a tiny waiting room chair that has been squished into the curtained off cubicle next to his bed. There is a whole lot of in between that Blaine thinks he should probably remember, a haze of events that all fade into one another, slipping away from his thoughts whenever he tries to hold onto them.

His head is throbbing, his arm immobilized at his side and the moment his father seems to realize that he is aware he pushes to his feet, sliding a hand over the rumpled lapels of his suit jacket and asking, “Are you awake this time?”

It feels like his thoughts are in soft-focus, nothing quite managing to stick even as he tries to smile, wincing instead when his brain protests the attempt and he asks, “What happened?”

“Your friend called us at home to tell us you’d been taken to the hospital,” his father replies, glancing hesitantly over his shoulder towards the curtain that has been pulled.

If Blaine concentrates he thinks he can hear his mother’s voice, the click of heels across the linoleum floor beyond the curtain. It hurts to concentrate.

“We’re waiting for them to take you up to cast your arm,” his father continues, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself now that he is standing as he just runs his hands again over his suit jacket and glances around the cubicle, not quite looking at Blaine. “And the nurse said something about wanting to have another look at your head before we take you home, just in case.”

Blaine starts to nod and immediately regrets it, his head spinning as he lets out a groan and squishes his eyes shut immediately, the afterburn of the hospital lights flashing behind his eyelids. His father’s voice sounds distant and unimportant, like the volume has been dialled down low as he says, “I’m going to tell your mother you’re awake again.”

He makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, humming softly at the back of his throat, though, now that he thinks about it, he can’t really seem to remember why.

\--

If Blaine was in the mood to acknowledge it, he would think it was almost eerie the way his parents seem to revert before his eyes. There is a caution that settles back over their house, the usual balance struck out of alignment by the miserable, constant throb of his head and the itch of his arm beneath the cast.

He loathes the unspoken tension more than anything; how his mother announces she is going to work from home for a few days like she needs to justify wanting to be there and his father takes a day off, out of the blue, to compensate for his mother’s less-than-able attempts at helping him. He loathes the way neither of them can seem to bring themselves to do more than haunt his room, handing over more tylenol when he is allowed it and trying not to make more noise than they have to.

Cooper has called twice already, talking to him for as long as Blaine can stand with that concerned tone that everyone has started using again, the one that makes Blaine feel instantly guilty because this time around he knows he has no one to blame for this but himself. 

The doctor had assured him the headache will go away eventually, within a few weeks at most, and the tiredness and lack of focus as well. They had told him it could have been much worse, that it only seems to be mild considering how hard he had hit his head.

It is the nightmares that get to him; old dreams he hasn’t had with any amount of frequency since those first few months after that have crept back in. He wakes sweating and panting, his face wet and his throat aching around a plea that he thought he might have forgotten by now.

In his dreams the concrete is painted red, the sound of their yelling echoing back at him from all directions and he begs for them to stop. It never makes a difference; his dreams always end in the exact same way.

\--

It is Sunday before he gets his first visitor, though he is starting to suspect that may be his father’s doing rather than a lack of interest from his friends. He has had texts and phonecalls since he arrived home but it isn’t quite the same as actual human contact and he is already starting to go a little stir-crazy. 

The headache has eased off a little as the swelling goes down and the constant throb in his arm has dulled to a muted ache. He feels less likely to fall asleep at any given moment, the tired drag of his eyes subsiding and being replaced by the itch of boredom. 

His dad has already informed him that he isn’t going back to Dalton for another week yet and the news had made him miserable, the prospect of a long week at home alone far less inviting than he thinks it probably should be.

Blaine doesn’t remember all of what happened the night he got injured, but he remembers enough to know that he doesn’t really want to think too hard about it. Thinking only ever seems to make things worse.

Still, from what he does remember from that night, the last person he expects to see standing in his doorway is Kurt, shifting uncomfortably on the spot like he isn't sure he wants to be there.

Blaine stares at him, blinking slowly as he carefully shifts up the bed to sit against the headboard, his voice cautious as he says, "Hi."

That seems to be all the invitation Kurt needs to actually step into the room, glancing awkwardly around himself before saying, "I didn't think your dad was going to let me in."

"He’s a little protective at the moment," Blaine replies, picking distractedly at the edge of his cast before glancing cautiously over at Kurt as he asks, "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see if you're okay," Kurt replies, shifting uncomfortably on his feet but not moving to sit down. "The Warblers haven't exactly been forthcoming with information."

Blaine nods slowly to himself, wincing and looking back down at his lap as he says, "Well, I'm fine. So if that's it -"

Kurt is clearly not prepared for that, he takes another hesitant step closer to Blaine’s bed, hands swinging awkwardly at his sides as he says, "I wanted to talk to you about something, actually."

"I'm really tired, Kurt," Blaine says, grateful at least that it isn’t a lie. 

If there is one thing that Blaine doesn’t want to do now, it’s try to hold an actual, important conversation. Not when he still gets pounding headaches trying to follow daytime television.

"It's about what happened," Kurt adds, "I just - I think there's a few things you need to know."

Blaine is pretty sure the last thing he wants is to have the hazy parts of his memory explained. He rubs his good hand over his face, sighing as he says, "Well?"

"It wasn't Puck's fault," Kurt blurts out immediately and Blaine notices, as he looks up, just how nervous Kurt looks suddenly. "I mean, he threw the slushie, but it wasn't his idea."

His eyes dip low, watching the slow drag of his fingernail back and forth across the edge of his cast before he asks, "I don't understand why you brought a slushie with you in the first place. You always told me how horrible it is, how degraded it makes you feel when they do that at your school."

"We," Kurt takes a breath, glancing aside as he forces himself to continue, "Santana and I talked about it and _I_ wanted to show Sebastian what it feels like to have that done to you. To be humiliated in front of your friends and the people you care about."

" _You_ wanted," Blaine says quietly, eyes dropping back to his hands.

"Nobody was supposed to get hurt," Kurt adds hurriedly, fingers twisting together in front of him as he speaks, "We were just going to have the sing off and then-"

"You were going to slushie him," Blaine finishes for him, dully.

"We've all been slushied before," Kurt replies uncomfortably and Blaine thinks it sounds more like Kurt’s trying to justify it to himself. "I thought that if he knew what it's like it might teach him a lesson."

"Teach him a lesson," Blaine repeats flatly.

"He tried to steal our set list," Kurt replies hotly. "It's like he’s determined to take everything away from me. First it was you and now it's Regionals and I just, I'm tired of being stepped on."

Blaine laughs, the sound so bitter that he can see Kurt flinch a little, his eyes downcast as he asks, "Well, was it worth it?"

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes wide as he says, "No, of course not. It was an accident. You know I didn't -"

"Why there, Kurt?" he asks, twisting the fingers of his good hand into the bedcovers and trying to relax when his head throbs miserably at the tension in his spine.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asks, staring back at him in confusion as Blaine shifts uncomfortably, digging his fingers into the bedcovers and exhaling slowly.

"You know," Blaine replies thickly, taking another breath before he asks, "Why that parking lot? Why at night time? Were you trying to get back at me? Were you really _that_ angry with me?"

Realization dawns across Kurt's face and he shakes his head wildly, insisting, "No, I swear it wasn't like that, we just wanted somewhere out of the way, it wasn't supposed to be -"

"You sure you weren't trying to teach _me_ a lesson?" Blaine asks quietly, glancing up to see the horrified expression on Kurt’s face and wondering if he imagines the split second of guilt that slips over Kurt’s face.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Kurt insists firmly. “You know I wouldn’t, Blaine. I didn’t even think about it -”

And that, Blaine thinks, is it exactly.

“I know you didn’t,” he replies quietly, because whether it had been unintentional or not, Kurt hadn’t even considered what that place might mean to him. He had been more concerned with teaching Sebastian a lesson.

“I know that you're angry,” Kurt says after a moment, watching him cautiously, “But I wanted you to know that if your parents were thinking about pressing charges it wasn't Puck's fault. He doesn’t deserve to go back to juvie for this."

"We're not pressing charges," Blaine replies, eyes fixed on the surface of his cast.

"Oh," Kurt says, shifting uncomfortably on the spot like he isn't sure what to do, the expression of relief that courses over his face almost more than Blaine can stand. "Thank you."

"It's not for you," Blaine says, eyes flashing upward before he looks down again and insists, "I just don’t want to waste any more time thinking about this."

And he doesn’t want his parents to know it wasn’t, entirely, an accident. He thinks that maybe they need to hold onto the illusion of Dalton’s safety even more than he does.

Blaine watches Kurt nod slowly, hurt mixed in the expression on his face as he says, "I really am sorry, Blaine. I guess I should probably go."

Kurt turns to leave, taking a step towards the door before the question tumbles out of Blaine’s mouth, "Why did you do it?" 

There is silence for a moment, Kurt hesitating on the spot before he slowly turns to glance back at Blaine, his eyes dropping towards his feet as he finally says, "I wanted him to know what it feels like for once in his life to not get exactly what he wants." 

It makes Blaine's heart sink, because he knows now that they aren't talking about what happened in that parking garage anymore at all, his eyes dipping back to his hands as he says, "He didn't 'get' anything, Kurt, I made a choice."

“You don’t get it,” Kurt says, shifting a little closer to the edge of the bed and curling his arms around himself. “Do you know what it’s like to have him rubbing it in my face every time I run into him at the Lima Bean? To hear from Tina how you’re wearing his shirt and his hands are all over you in public barely a month after we broke up?”

Blaine’s eyes drop, his fingers dragging restlessly across the covers at his side as he says, “I didn’t know he’d seen you since the show at Christmas.”

"He's a bully, Blaine," Kurt says, shaking his head in frustration before looking away to hide the expression on his face. "You don't know half of what he's done."

It strikes a chord, the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach spreading upwards and Blaine looks away.

"Well, I hear that's going around at the moment," Blaine says after a moment, curling his arm protectively against his chest and closing his eyes as he adds, "Tell Puck not to worry, we won’t be pressing charges."

Kurt makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat as he realizes he is being dismissed and Blaine can almost feel him hesitating before he hears the tread of his boots on the floor and when he opens his eyes again Kurt is gone.

\--

"They tried to call a truce," Sebastian announces disgustedly as he drops down onto the end of Blaine's bed. "They sent Shaqueera to invite us to some lame ceasefire meeting. I told them they can take their truce and -"

Blaine winces as his arm gets jostled in the process of turning over, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand and trying to stifle a yawn behind his cast as he blinks over at Sebastian. He shifts up the bed a little as it registers exactly who it is that is staring at him, a hesitant smile crawling over his lips.

"You were asleep,” Sebastian says after a moment, eyeing him with a bemused expression. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“The concussion makes me sleepy,” Blaine defends, stifling another yawn behind his hand apologetically before he drags his knees up and gingerly rests his casted arm across them. “And watching TV and reading makes the headaches worse, so it’s not like I have much to do.”

Sebastian’s lips quirk up at the corner, the blatant drag of his eyes making Blaine sigh even before he says, “I might have a few suggestions.”

The expression on Blaine’s face must be answer enough, Sebastian laughing to himself as he shifts in closer, eyebrows raising as he says, “Someone’s grouchy today.”

Blaine sighs again, eyes drifting down to his lap before he says, “Kurt came to see me yesterday.”

The immediate shift on Sebastian’s face only fuels the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, his eyes following as Sebastian shifts further down the bed towards him and sneers, “What did he want?”

“To explain, I guess,” Blaine replies, peering over the tops of his knees at Sebastian as his eyes narrow. “Not that it really matters.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows inch upwards, his fingers curling around Blaine’s ankle as he shifts forward again, his voice a little sharp as he says, “Oh?”

“He said some things,” Blaine replies, picking at the end of his cast and trying to ignore the brush of Sebastian’s fingertips up and down the bone of his ankle, his eyes dipping away as he says, “Did you - do you run into them a lot at the Lima Bean?”

“I’ve seen them around once or twice,” Sebastian replies, forehead crinkling a little like he is trying to figure out where Blaine is going with this. “Why do you ask?”

Blaine laughs, shaking his head as he says, “It’s nothing. Just - Kurt made it seem like you were always there.”

“Only decent coffee in the area,” Sebastian replies with a shrug, shifting forward until he is close enough to lean in and press his lips against the corner of Blaine’s mouth in an unspoken question. “My dad seems to think that if we wanted to, we’d have a good case against at least getting them disqualified for Regionals for what they did.”

Something slithers down Blaine’s back, his eyes wide as his knees slide back down the bed and he says, “You talked to your dad about it?”

Sebastian shrugs again, raising his hand to turn Blaine’s chin towards him and leaning in to kiss him again before he says, “Of course I did.”

"I don't want to get them disqualified," Blaine says after a moment, meeting Sebastian's eyes and edging a little closer.

"You want them to get away with it?" Sebastian asks incredulously, eyebrows arching upwards. "They put you in the hospital."

"It was an accident," Blaine replies, frowning as his eyes drift down to his cast again.

"That slushie wasn't an accident," Sebastian scoffs, eyes narrowing as he adds, "That's why Hummel came here, isn't it? He told you it was an accident and you believed him."

"They thought we were stealing their set list," Blaine replies tiredly, shaking his head as he forces himself to look up at Sebastian again. "It’s - it’s not _okay_ , but I don't want to waste more time on them that we could spend working towards Regionals."

"That was a joke, Blaine. _They_ broke your arm, and, in case you've forgotten, they were aiming that slushie at me," Sebastian says, leaning back to stare at Blaine with an expression of disbelief. "How can you let him win?"

"Nobody won anything," Blaine replies, the uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest as he holds eye contact because he isn’t entirely sure that he likes what he sees in Sebastian’s eyes.

"This is about Hummel," Sebastian says slowly, eyes narrowing as he stares at Blaine thoughtfully. "He came here and played the victim card and you fell for it."

Blaine shakes his head immediately in denial, anger creeping up inside because the last thing in the world this is about is _Kurt_. He is tired and his arm is aching and he can feel the throb starting to spread out from the back of his head again as he insists, "It's not about Kurt."

"Funny," Sebastian replies and Blaine thinks this is the first time he has ever seen Sebastian look anything more than mildly annoyed. Blaine had been starting to wonder if there was anything at all that could get beneath Sebastian’s skin. "Because it sure seems like it is."

"Maybe it's about me," Blaine snaps back, cradling his arm against his chest and feeling his heart start to pound loud in his chest. "Maybe it's about both of you treating me like a chew toy. Maybe it's about _you_ acting like I can't have opinions that aren't influenced by someone else."

The expression on Sebastian's face shifts so quickly, from annoyed to surprised to something else entirely before it is all sealed up behind a smirk, eyes dead behind the laugh that escapes his mouth, his eyebrows inching higher as he says, "Did you knock something loose when you hit your head?"

Blaine flinches, inhaling sharply as he shifts back towards the headboard and Sebastian rolls his eyes, following immediately after him as he says, "It was a joke, Blaine."

"Everything's a joke to you," Blaine replies stiffly, twisting the fingers of his good hand into his bed covers and breathing out slowly, eyes fixed uncertainly on where Sebastian is all but hovering over him. "Do you really want to know why I'm not pressing charges or trying to get them disqualified?"

Sebastian tilts his head to the side, that frozen smile sticking as he says, "Enlighten me."

It takes another slow breath, clenching his fingers in his sheets before he can bring himself to speak again, eyes fixed on the uneven surface of his cast as he says, "It's because I know exactly what will happen." 

There is a hint of confusion in the wrinkle of his forehead, the doubtful glint in his eye as Blaine stifles the laugh that forms bitter and sharp in the back of his throat because of course Sebastian doesn’t get it. "They'll say they're looking into it and, for a week or maybe two, they might actually do it. But eventually they'll say there isn't enough evidence or it was all an accident, that the guy who broke three of your ribs and kicked you in the head just got _carried away_. That guy ends up making Junior Varsity and you transfer schools and it won’t change anything at all because nobody really cares."

"My dad -" Sebastian starts to say, reaching out a hand to skim down Blaine’s face.

This time he can’t hold back the laugh, shaking his head as he says, " _My_ dad shouldn’t have to deal with this again. He sent me to Dalton so I would be safe. How can I tell him that he was wrong? This is my fault."

"No, it's Hummel's fault," Sebastian corrects, eyes narrowed further as he leans in, kissing Blaine firmly before he pulls back to say, "Just leave it to me."

"Sebastian," he starts to protest, frowning when Sebastian cuts him off with another pointed kiss, leaning further over Blaine and sliding a hand up beneath the hem of his sleeping shirt, fingers tracing through the trail of hair low on his stomach and upwards.

"Don't worry about it," Sebastian insists against his lips, pressing kisses along his jaw and down his neck before he adds, "Just trust me."

Blaine sighs, struggling for a moment with the tight ball of frustration in his chest at him simply _not_ understanding before he relents, squirming a little at the scrape of Sebastian's nails against the soft skin of his stomach as he says, "My dad is right downstairs."

"You should probably work on staying quiet then," Sebastian replies against his throat and Blaine can feel the curve of his smile against his skin, the trace of his fingers down the bone of his hip before they catch on his waistband. "You can be quiet can't you, Blaine?"

"You're such a jerk," Blaine replies, biting down on his lower lip as Sebastian smirks against his neck and slips his hand past the elastic.

"Not exactly the word I'd use for the guy with his hand around your dick," Sebastian says, "Any other suggestions?"

The choked off moan that rolls up Blaine's throat earns a puff of laughter against his neck and a barely audible murmur of, "That's better."

\--

Later, as Sebastian is gathering his things to leave, the smug twist to his lips working its way in beneath Blaine's lazy post-orgasm haze, Blaine forces his eyes open to watch him. His voice doesn’t sound nearly as assertive as he had hoped it would as he says, "Promise me you'll leave this thing with the New Directions alone."

Sebastian's eyebrows shoot up, the expression of surprise on his face so entirely out of place that Blaine feels like he should laugh. It only takes a moment for Sebastian’s lips to curl at the corners before he agrees, "As long as they do the same."

Blaine sighs, awkwardly pushing himself back into a sitting position with one hand. "Why do I feel like you're planning something?"

There is a snort of laughter in response as Sebastian moves over to the edge of the bed, tracing a finger the length of Blaine's neck before he says, "I won't do a single thing without the unanimous support of the rest of the Warblers. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Blaine replies dryly, tipping his chin up to meet Sebastian's kiss.

Somehow, it doesn’t sound quite so promising as Blaine thinks it should.

\--

\--

Blaine spends the entirety of the next week with the perpetual feeling that he is just waiting for the next thing to go wrong. 

He gets a call from Cooper every morning, most of them spent discussing the audition he is going on next week, and he gets texts from the Warblers throughout the day with the usual gossip and a growing number of complaints about how Sebastian has become a complete tyrant in dance rehearsals without Blaine around to stop him.

By the time the weekend rolls around Blaine is so bored that he doesn't know what to do with himself. The worst of the symptoms have mostly worn off, enough that both of his parents have gone back to work and most days he finds himself just listlessly waiting for the afternoon and trying to ignore the dull throb of his arm. 

Sebastian had dropped by a few times during the week, but visitors have been few and far between and it’s not like he doesn’t get it, his friends are busy with school and Dalton isn’t exactly close-by, but the part of him that listens to Cooper apologize every single time he calls for not being able to make it back to see him and is just a little overeager whenever Sebastian does show up can’t help but be disappointed as he tries to while away the hours alone.

The relief Blaine feels when Sebastian shows up unannounced on Saturday morning is a little bit ridiculous, the smile that breaks over his face so wide that he would feel silly if Sebastian didn’t look quite so amused by it. As it is, Sebastian barely makes it through the door before he announces that they have somewhere else they need to be.

Even getting dressed is a challenge at the moment, the majority of his wardrobe filled with too many buttons or complications that give him a headache to even think about trying to cope with one-handed. It doesn’t take long for him to concede defeat, resigning himself to chinos and a t-shirt while he rummages through the depths of his wardrobe for a cardigan that will fit over his cast.

Blaine emerges from the bathroom with his hair slicked neatly back into place (because that is a concession he isn’t willing to make) to find Sebastian sprawled out across his bed, smirking wide enough at the sight of it for Blaine to roll his eyes and grumble, "Shut up."

“I didn’t say a word,” Sebastian snorts, rolling up to his feet and crossing the room to the door.

“You were thinking it,” Blaine replies, frowning as he tugs at his cardigan and eyes the sleeve stretched tight around the lump of his cast uncertainly. If his father were around he would probably insist that Blaine wear the sling. “Where are we going anyway?”

"You’ll see," is the only explanation he gets before Sebastian is guiding him out the door with a hand planted between his shoulders.

\--

“You know, you’re really not all that mysterious,” Blaine muses aloud as he walks through the doors of the Lima Bean, glancing over his shoulder at Sebastian with a hint of a smile as he adds, “You realize I’m not supposed to drink anything with caffeine in it, right?”

“There is such a thing as decaf,” Sebastian replies as he lets the door close behind him, the warmth of the coffee shop sweeping over them as they join the short line in front of the counter. “Besides, we’re not here for the coffee.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning to look up at him as he asks, “What are we here for then?”

Sebastian shrugs a little, the corner of his lip tugging upward as he says, “You’ll see.”

“This is because I questioned your mystique isn’t it?” Blaine asks as they move forward another step, ducking his head to hide the smile on his face as he reaches a hand up to gingerly brush across the back of his neck.

The snort he gets in response only makes him smile wider, eyes dipping away as they wait for their turn to order. 

By the time they sit down, Blaine nursing a hot chocolate glumly and trying to ignore the smirk Sebastian keeps directing his way, he is still no wiser as to what they are here for. Sebastian sinks down into a seat right next to Blaine instead of opposite, setting his coffee on the table and leaning back in his chair, his eyes glancing towards the door every so often.

“Who are we meeting?” Blaine asks warily, glancing over his shoulder towards the entrance like it might give him a clue.

Sebastian just smiles and drapes an arm across the back of Blaine’s chair as he says, “You’re about to find out.”

Blaine’s stomach sinks as he watches Finn hold open the door for Rachel while she enters the coffee shop, unbuttoning her coat as she walks. He feels the trace of a finger across his back as he turns back to look at Sebastian, his eyes wide as he asks, “What did you do?”

“They’re the ones who asked to meet with us, Anderson,” Sebastian replies with a shrug, seemingly not noticing the unease on Blaine’s face as he slides his hand up a little, draping his arm across Blaine’s shoulder pointedly. 

“Did they say what they wanted to talk about?” Blaine asks, eyes darting over his shoulder to find that they have been spotted and Rachel is weaving her way through the tables toward them with Finn trailing at her heels.

Sebastian doesn’t reply but the hint of a smirk that Blaine catches toying with his lips is enough to make him frown, clutching clumsily at his cup as he watches Rachel warily circle their table to stand behind an empty chair. She makes no move whatsoever to sit down, instead hesitating as she glances in Blaine’s direction and says, “I didn’t know Blaine was going to be here.”

Blaine shifts back in his seat, drawing his arm back off the table and against his chest as he replies, “Nice to see you too, Rachel.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Rachel says immediately, her fingers curling around the back of the chair she has stopped behind.

“As touching as this reunion is sure to be,” Sebastian cuts in, his hand squeezing over Blaine’s shoulder as he stares up at Rachel with apparent boredom, “Is whatever this is going to take long? The dopey expression on your boyfriend’s face is actually painful to look at.”

“All you have to do is sit there and listen,” Finn says, frowning down at them as he steps up beside Rachel.

“We wanted to let you know that we aren’t doing Michael for Regionals,” Rachel says, reaching back to grip Finn’s hand in hers and taking a deep breath.

Blaine can see the way Sebastian’s eyebrows hitch upwards from the corner of his eye, watches the curve of his smirk as he says, “Funny, I didn’t think you’d surrender so easily.”

“We’re tired of all the fighting,” Rachel says after a moment, glancing quickly in Blaine’s direction as she adds, “We used to be friends.”

“And then you put him in the hospital,” Sebastian scoffs, leaning back in his seat and dragging his fingers across Blaine’s shoulder. “I can see how that would be confusing for you.”

From the corner of his eye he can see the way Rachel squeezes at Finn’s hand, the slow inhale of breath through her nose like she is trying to stay calm before she says, “I know that we’ve had our differences this year, but none of us ever wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“I know,” Blaine says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he glances from Rachel’s wide-eyed sincerity to the guarded expression on Finn’s face.

He hears the soft noise at the back of Sebastian’s throat, his fingers squeezing a little harder into Blaine’s shoulder before he says, “Was there a point to all of this, or were you just hoping to guilt Blaine into forgiving you?”

“That isn’t what we’re doing,” Rachel replies stiffly, “We’re trying to take the high road.”

“And as saintly as that is of you,” Sebastian replies, shifting in his seat and glaring across at them, “You’ve put our lead soloist out of commission for at least four weeks with your _taking the high road_. That’s rehearsal time that we aren’t going to get back.”

Rachel’s voice is sharp, verging on anger as she snaps, “What do you want, Sebastian?”

“I want you to drop out of the competition,” Sebastian replies, fingers digging into Blaine’s shoulder as he sits up straighter and turns to look at Sebastian in surprise. “McKinley already has the home court advantage this year, if you want to play fair then so be it; if we lose our lead soloist, so should you.”

“That is show choir terrorism,” Rachel gasps, staring at Sebastian in disbelief before her eyes turn to Blaine, “Tell me you don’t agree with this.”

Blaine shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on the side of Sebastian’s face as he asks, “You aren’t serious, are you?”

Sebastian glances over at him, eyebrows raised as he says, “If they’re as _sorry_ as they say they are, she should have no problem sitting this one out. They should be grateful we aren’t getting them disqualified from the competition altogether. Especially considering that stunt you pulled this week.”

“You can’t do that,” Finn interrupts angrily, “You’re the ones who cheated in the first place. If you hadn’t tried to steal our setlist none of this would have happened.”

The expression on Sebastian’s face is far too amused, his lips curling wide as he says, “I think you’ll find that two clubs singing the same artist for a competition isn’t actually breaking the rules. Intentionally injuring another clubs soloist, however -”

“It was an accident,” Rachel cuts in, turning back to Blaine with wide imploring eyes, “Puck wasn’t even aiming for you. If you hadn’t tried to step in the way -”

“So it’s _Blaine’s_ fault now,” Sebastian replies, eyebrows hitching higher as he laughs. “Though really, it’s nice of you to admit that it was a planned attack. With witnesses and everything. My dad will be thrilled.”

There is color starting to flood Rachel’s cheeks, her eyes wide and furious as she asks, “What does your dad have to do with any of this?”

“My dad is sort of what you’d call a State’s Attorney,” Sebastian replies, the thin vicious smile on his face curling wider as he leans back in his seat, hand rubbing slowly at Blaine’s shoulder. “So you see, either you drop out of the competition or I sue your white-trash, trailer park friend for attempted assault. I’m sure his old buddies in juvie would be thrilled to see him again.”

“It was just a slushie,” Finn says, dropping Rachel’s hand as he steps forward, his legs bumping into the table and Blaine winces as it jolts his elbow, curling his arm up away from the table with a hiss.

That is all it takes, Finn glancing over in surprise and Sebastian’s smug smile sharpening into something a little more vicious and it’s like it is happening all over again; so quickly that Blaine can’t even seem to keep up, let alone stop it. His mouth won’t seem to respond, his heart pounding in his ears and over that he can hear the distant sound of their arguments echoing around him, the pointed weight of Sebastian’s arm hanging heavy around his shoulders.

His head is starting to throb again, worse with every drag of Sebastian’s fingers across his shoulder like he is speaking _for_ Blaine, like any of this is something that he wants. 

“Can you all please just _stop?_ ”

Blaine doesn’t even realize what he has said until they are all staring at him, silent for the first time since Rachel and Finn arrived. His hand unclenches slowly as he carefully pushes his chair back from the table and stands, Sebastian’s hand falling off of his shoulder. 

“Neither of you have even apologized,” he says, his voice trembling with badly contained emotion as he stares hard across the table at Rachel and Finn, shaking his head as Rachel opens her mouth to protest. “You’re so concerned about a stupid competition and proving each other wrong that you don’t even care that someone got hurt.”

“Of course we care, Blaine,” Rachel cuts in, her eyes wounded with the implication. “But I’m not going to let myself be blackmailed out of the competition because of -”

Laughter bubbles up his throat, sudden and bitter and exhausted because even now all that matters is that stupid competition. He shakes his head to himself as he turns away from his chair and heads for the door, ignoring the burn in his eyes because he never really believed that he could feel _worse_ about this. 

Sebastian catches up to him about three steps out of the door, reaching out to plant a hand on his shoulder and ask, “Where are you going?”

Blaine shivers, the cold seeping in through his cardigan and he longs for a moment for the warmth of his coat, the coat that won’t fit over his stupid cast, and his eyes sting as he turns on his heel, and says, “How dare you.”

He watches the incredulous expression that forms across Sebastian’s face, the way his lips freeze in that bemused half smile before Sebastian asks, “Excuse me?”

“You _promised_ me that you would leave the New Directions alone,” Blaine says, his good hand trembling at his side while he curls his other arm up around his chest and tries to keep his composure. 

Sebastian’s eyebrows inch upwards, rolling his shoulders back as he looks down at Blaine and says, “I think you’ll find that I said I wouldn’t do anything that the rest of the Warblers wouldn’t agree with, which, every single one of them seem to think that the New Directions need to pay for what they did.”

His heart thumps uncomfortably in his chest as he takes a step back from Sebastian, shaking his head as he says, “I told you why I didn’t want to get them disqualified.”

“Because you think you wouldn’t win,” Sebastian replies, shaking his head and taking a step towards him with a roll of his eyes, “And I said that I would sort it. Dad said that -”

“It isn’t about _winning_ , Sebastian,” Blaine says, voice trembling as he curls his good arm tighter around himself and takes another step back. “Is that the only thing you care about?”

The noise of irritation that leaves Sebastian’s throat is loud enough to draw Blaine’s eyes up to his face, to stare at the irritable roll of Sebastian’s eyes before he says, “I thought you wanted to go to Nationals, Anderson.”

“Not if we have to blackmail Rachel Berry to get there,” Blaine replies firmly, forcing himself to hold Sebastian’s stare as his eyebrows quirk upwards and the expression on his face turns a little sharper.

There is another huff of exasperation, Sebastian staring down at him like he is a particularly difficult child before he asks, “Can you honestly tell me you aren’t angry?”

“Of course I’m angry,” Blaine replies, rubbing his good hand down his face as he takes an unsteady breath. “I thought they were my friends. But that doesn’t change anything, Sebastian. That isn’t the way the Warblers work.”

“Well, maybe you don’t know them as well as you think you do,” Sebastian replies, staring back at him with a frown.

A shiver rolls through him, his head throbbing miserably as he searches Sebastian’s face and his heart starts to sink as he realizes that suddenly a lot of things are starting to make sense.

“I asked you not to,” Blaine says quietly after a moment, fingers picking at the edge of his cast as he finally drops his eyes.

“It wasn’t an accident, Blaine, they just got the wrong person,” Sebastian replies before taking a step forward, his hands settling over Blaine’s shoulders as he says, “I did this for you.”

“No,” Blaine says tiredly, shaking his head as he replies, “You did this for _you_ , because you didn’t want to feel like they’d won.”

Then there is only silence, expanding between them as Blaine breathes in, clutching his arm to his chest. His head is throbbing and suddenly all he wants is to be at home, to be far, far away from that calculating stare and the face that looks nothing at all like the guy he thought he knew. The one who was kind of a jerk but who was fun, who had seemed to listen to Blaine and who got him, who appreciated his talents and challenged him to do things he had never thought he could do and somehow, inexplicably, had even managed to charm his parents. 

The silence stretches thin and he can feel his composure strain with it. It feels like all it would take is one little push for him to shatter as he stares up at Sebastian, hoping that he will deny it or he will admit it or that he will do something other than stare at him with that sharp, challenging stare.

It turns out that the only thing he gets is the start of a frown forming between Sebastian’s eyebrows before he leans in as if to kiss him and Blaine steps back, looking away as he feels Sebastian’s hands slide off of his shoulders. 

There is a question forming on Sebastian’s lips, the hint of something offended covered up quickly by the raise of his eyebrows as he says, “Funny how you’re defending them when I’m the one who’s sticking up for you, Anderson.”

“I’m just - I’m tired, okay,” Blaine says after a moment, eyes dropping to the toes of his shoes, “I want to go home.”

\--

Blaine’s fingers are shaking, his eyes warm with unshed tears as he sinks down onto the edge of their porch. Sebastian’s car is long gone now, taking with him the eerie quiet that had risen between them and leaving Blaine with the sinking realization that he doesn’t really know what any of it means.

Whatever it was that had been between them, Blaine is almost sure that it is over now.

It takes a moment to find the right number, clumsily scrolling through his contacts with the wrong hand. His thumb pushes the call button and he drags the phone up to his ear, biting down on his lower lip and blinking rapidly as he waits for the phone to ring.

Cooper picks up on the third ring, his voice bright as he asks, “Hey Blainey, I tried to call home earlier but you weren’t picking up so I figured you must be sleeping.”

There is something distinctly miserable in his voice that he can’t even bring himself to try and disguise, his voice hitching as his composure falters and he says, “I don’t know what to do, Coop.”

There is a pause, the concerned intake of breath before Cooper asks, “What happened? Where are you?”

“At home,” he replies uneasily, balancing his cast carefully across his knees as he says, “I think I might have made a mistake.”

\--

The rest of the weekend passes without so much as another text from Sebastian, his phone remaining dark and silent on his bedside table. Blaine doesn’t get out of bed until Sunday afternoon, shuffling around his room distractedly and clumsily packing up his freshly dry-cleaned uniform. If it weren't for the faint spots of pink in the collar of his shirt, hardly noticeable except that he knows they are there, it would almost be like nothing happened at all.

By the time his dad arrives home early to drive him back to school, Blaine has been ready to leave for an hour. 

He does his best to ignore the way his father keeps glancing over at him, the expression on his face so uncertain that Blaine knows he isn’t entirely convinced that this is a good idea. Instead Blaine spends the entire drive staring out the window with his arm settled carefully across his lap, listening to the soft, distracted hum of his father’s voice with the radio, dialled low to some oldies station.

There is an occasional sigh and the drum of his fingers against the steering wheel, periodically tugging at his tie and glancing in Blaine's direction, like maybe his father is working up to saying something, but Blaine keeps his eyes trained on the passing landmarks. 

Blaine finally relents, glancing over to his father as he clears his throat, eyes glancing quickly in Blaine’s direction before settling back on the road when he says, “You don’t have to go back yet, if you don’t want to.”

He has been waiting for it since they got in the car. 

Blaine is almost positive that Cooper had called their parents after that conversation yesterday and he doesn’t even blame him, that much, but his father has been even more awkward around him than usual since he arrived home from work, like he is on the cusp of saying something but can't quite get it out.

It is all a little too close to memories he thought he had buried long ago of that awful in-between period after the hospital and before Dalton. There is something about the tense, attempted casual tone of voice his father uses that reminds him of conversations that started with, ' _I thought you might like to check out this school I found._ '

The last thing in the world that Blaine wants is for his father to feel like the safe haven he had found for him had failed. That _he_ had failed.

Sometimes Blaine wonders if that isn’t what stalks the silences between them, a measure of failures tied down with guilt that his father can never quite find the words to release. 

"I want to," Blaine insists with as much conviction as he can muster, plastering a smile to his face as he turns in his seat to face his father. "I don't want to get too far behind on my classes."

The expression on his father's face is doubtful, his eyes fixed on the road as he says, "Well, just remember what the doctor said. You shouldn’t overexert yourself."

"I won't," Blaine agrees, running his fingernail against the edge of his cast and trying to fix the smile to his lips.

"And if you feel like it's too much you can always call and we'll come and pick you up," his father adds, fingers drumming louder across the steering wheel.

"I know," Blaine replies softly, hands dropping neatly back into his lap. "I will."

Blaine turns back to the window at the soft noise of acknowledgement, his head thunking quietly against the glass as the radio mocks him, ' _Cause I’m as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change._ '

\--

His dorm is empty when he finally escapes the tense goodbye in the confines of his father's car and Blaine is grateful for the respite. He knows that his father cares, that all he really wants is for Blaine to be safe, but the weight of the fear his father carries around with him is stifling.

There is something almost eerie about how quiet the halls are; muted and big and empty in a way that Blaine hasn't really _felt_ since he first arrived at Dalton over two years ago. He kind of hates how nervous he is, how uncertain he feels in this environment now when Dalton has been his second home, his safety net, for so long.

It all seems incredibly unfair.

He knows Dalton like the back of his own hand, every inch of school grounds and every corridor and classroom ingrained in the back of his head; but it feels different somehow. For a long time he had felt like the Dalton uniform was a shield, like nothing bad could possibly happen to him as long as he was wearing it because he was just the same as anyone else. 

Now he knows that isn't the case.

Blaine is carefully hanging his uniform back in the closet when James appears in the doorway, grinning wide when he spots Blaine and says, "The rumor mill had me thinking I might get a single room."

The laugh surprises him, escaping before he can check it as he turns toward James to roll his eyes, shrugging as he says, "Sorry, it looks like you're stuck with me for a while yet."

"Could be worse I guess," James says as he flops back onto his bed and groans, wiggling on his back into a more comfortable position. "So, you aren't in a coma. Congratulations."

Blaine's nose wrinkles in surprise, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he asks, "People thought I was in a coma?"

"Amongst other things," James agrees. "Your Warbler buddies have been pretty tight-lipped about what happened."

"I'm fine," Blaine says after a moment, pushing the closet shut before he turns to face James, "It’s just a minor concussion."

"That explains the cast," James replies dryly.

"And a broken wrist," Blaine agrees, glancing over at him with an amused raise of his eyebrows. "Is that good enough or do you want to talk to my doctor as well?" 

James snorts, shifting on his bed and shrugging as he says, "What's the point in being roommates if I don't get all the best gossip first?"

"Funny," Blaine replies, rolling his eyes as he slumps down onto his bed, resting his cast carefully across his chest. 

There is a yawn from James's direction as he agrees, "I try. Want to go to the dining hall and see what they're serving for dessert?"

Blaine smiles a little, the creep of disappointment and nerves that has been crawling beneath his skin easing off as he says, "That sounds great."

\--

Blaine has been fumbling uselessly with his tie for almost ten minutes, growing increasingly frustrated as it slips through his fingers every time. He knows that there is a trick to it, he had mastered it last time around, but he can't quite seem to remember what it was.

He has already battled the buttons on his shirt with slow, miserable progress and he remembers that the blazer should be able to fit over his cast as long as he leaves the cuffs unbuttoned, but he can't remember how he had ever managed the tie without both hands. Blaine takes a steadying breath, staring at his reflection and attempts to smile.

It looks tired and strained to his eyes, his face pale and miserable and not even the slightest bit convincing. 

Blaine sighs, digging a hand through the still dripping mess of his hair and stares hard at the tails of his tie hanging loose around his neck before taking a deep breath and reaching up to try again.

\--

He barely makes it to his first class on time, scooting through the door with an apologetic wince, but Archer only grimaces in his direction and lets him be.

Blaine is already sinking into his usual seat before he realizes that something is different. 

The seat next to him is empty.

Sebastian's voice is audible from across the room, dipped low in conversation with someone that Blaine doesn't recognize, and he didn’t expect it, didn’t even _think_ about it, but the idea that Sebastian had pointedly chosen another seat kind of stings.

Blaine can hear the whispers around him but he finds that if he focuses hard enough on trying to make his writing legible using the wrong hand, he can almost convince himself that they aren't talking about him.

\--

Jeff is waiting for him when he emerges from the classroom with an overwhelming stack of handouts and recommended reading from Archer to catch up on. He smiles wide when he sees Blaine, a strange, forced smile that makes Blaine instantly nervous.

"You can borrow my notes from last week if you like," Jeff offers as he pushes off the wall and falls into step next to him.

"Thanks," Blaine replies as he clumsily tries to stuff the handouts into his satchel without losing his grip. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

There is an awkward shrugging motion and Jeff looking away before he says, "Sebastian said that you were kind of pissed at everyone."

A slow throb is reemerging at the back of his head already and Blaine kind of wants to just go back to bed, wondering exactly what Sebastian might have said, but instead he shakes his head as he says, "I'm not mad at you guys."

Jeff's smile relaxes to something a little more natural, sounding relieved as he admits, "We wanted to come visit you last week but the Warblers are kind of on thin ice at the moment."

Blaine glances over at him in surprise, eyes wide as he asks, "What, why?"

Jeff sighs, frowning to himself as he says, "The New Directions lodged a complaint accusing us of cheating and the Dean is opening up an investigation about what happened the other night. Between that and you guys missing your curfew and you getting hurt..."

The expansive shrug of Jeff’s shoulders as he trails off is really answer enough.

"Why haven't I heard about this before now?" Blaine asks as they make their way down the corridor, Blaine curling his cast in close to his chest so it won't get knocked.

"I thought Sebastian would have told you," Jeff says, something guilty worming it's way across his face immediately after as he looks away. "Maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"Right," Blaine replies, his eyes fixed straight ahead as they enter the English classroom, the reminder of one more thing that Sebastian conveniently hadn’t told him enough to stave off the ache that has been filling his chest since he first sat down in the Biology classroom, at least temporarily. 

"He probably just didn't want to bother you while you were injured," Jeff adds awkwardly after a moment, sinking down in the seat next to Blaine where Nick would usually sit.

Blaine frowns a little at that, rubbing at his eyes tiredly with his good hand and dragging his satchel into his lap.

"Yeah," Blaine agrees, his voice sounding flat to even his own ears as he pulls another folder from his bag. "I'm sure that's it."

\--

Over the course of the day it becomes increasingly clear that, while Blaine hadn't known for certain what that fight outside the Lima Bean was supposed to mean for them, Sebastian isn't quite so conflicted. 

It is almost like Blaine has completely dropped off his radar. He eats lunch with the lacrosse team, jokes with Nick during English and doesn't so much as glance in Blaine's direction when they pass in the hallway.

By the time Warbler practice rolls around Blaine is so exhausted that all he wants is to crawl into bed; his arm is aching and his head is pounding, but even worse is the creeping feeling of hurt that grows worse with every blatant snub throughout the day.

Most of the Warblers greet him excitedly, asking if he is feeling better and how long the cast has to stay on, but Blaine notices the way a few hang back, Sebastian at the center of them. 

Somehow he gets the impression this is only just the beginning.

\--

“Maybe Blaine should sit this one out if it’s so complicated,” Sebastian says from the front of the group, something sharp beneath the slick smile on his face as Blaine misses a step again.

Blaine is usually good at picking up choreography. He knows he isn’t the best dancer in the group, but he has always been a fast learner. At the moment, however, he finds it hard to concentrate for any length of time at all - and Sebastian’s near constant running commentary really isn’t helping.

Within twenty minutes of the first session since he returned, dance rehearsals have already become Blaine’s new least favorite days of the week. He sets his jaw, narrows his eyes and replies, “I’m fine.”

In all truth, his head is pounding furiously, his arm is aching and he is pretty sure that this is an exact example of what his doctor would have called ‘overexerting’ himself. But there is something in the way Sebastian keeps dropping comments of faux-concern about Blaine handling Warbler rehearsals that refuses to let him budge.

He knows exactly what Sebastian is trying to do.

“Maybe Sebastian’s right,” Nick speaks up from his side, studying his face with apparent concern, “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Blaine insists, shifting a little on his feet and glancing pointedly back in Sebastian’s direction with a grim smile. “Well, are we going to do this or not?”

The smile he gets in response is anything but comforting, eyebrows arching high over Sebastian’s eyes as he says, “Just try to keep up this time, Blaine, we haven’t got all night.”

\--

After that first dance rehearsal back, Blaine is starting to suspect that Sebastian is actively trying to provoke him.

The first time it happens he almost doesn't notice; Jeff goes quiet suddenly, trailing off mid sentence as he slows to almost a halt before blurting out, "Hey, we should cut through the courtyard," and reaches out to grab Blaine's arm to try and steer him in the direction of the doors.

Blaine frowns, glancing over at Jeff in confusion to point out that it is still raining but his eyes stick halfway there, caught on the sight of Sebastian pressing some other boy into a wall, hands snaking up the back of his blazer.

His eyes jerk away, fingers trembling at his side before he shoves them into his pocket and for a moment he doesn’t know where to look or what to do, panic racing through him because he doesn’t know how he is supposed to react to _that_. It takes one glimpse of the concerned look on Jeff’s face before his eyes drift up, fixed determinedly ahead and he moves to keep walking, his voice steady and as unconcerned as he can manage as he says, "It's raining."

The boy is a sophomore that Blaine thinks he vaguely remembers as standing dewy-eyed at the front of the crowd during a few of their performances and standing around the sign-up sheets with a wistful expression at the start of the year. Apparently Sebastian had noticed too.

Jeff opens his mouth like he wants to say something, hesitating as he eyes Blaine carefully and eventually just biting his lip and looking down while Blaine sticks his chin up, sets his jaw and keeps walking.

"He's kind of a jerk," Jeff says once they are out of earshot, his eyes darting hesitantly to Blaine's face.

Blaine hopes he doesn't look half as crushed as he feels inside, the ache in his chest being firmly stamped aside as he says, "Yeah. He really is."

\--

Blaine sits in his dorm that night furiously debating his options. His head and arm and chest are all one constant, throbbing ache, his eyes burning whenever he stares down at the screen of his phone, clenched tight between his fingers.

He has seriously considered calling home four times already so far; is so exhausted by classes and Warbler rehearsals and the emotional drain of Sebastian fucking Smythe that the idea of giving up and going home, retreating for just one more week is beyond tempting.

The only thing that stops him, that keeps his thumb from pressing the call button, is the reminder of that tired, worried expression on his father’s face. 

This is a battle he has to fight for himself.

\--

The sophomore doesn't end up lasting very long, replaced in quick succession by a senior from the swim team that Blaine had harbored the most ridiculous crush on for a month or two in his (repeat) freshman year. He is tall and dark haired and gorgeous and Blaine had been desperately in love with him from afar for all of six weeks before he discovered how incredibly dull he was.

It is probably paranoid and a little arrogant to think that Sebastian would actively choose to make out with his - well, whatever, they are - in places Blaine would run into them, but after it happens for the third time in one week he thinks he is entitled to feel a little suspicious.

Blaine keeps his eyes fixed ahead, jaw set and good hand curled around the strap of his satchel, determinedly not looking at the spectacle Sebastian is making, but apparently Sebastian isn't content with that.

The call of, " _Anderson!_ " surprises him into turning his head, his eyes sticking to the point where Sebastian's hand is curled around the other guy's bicep. 

Blaine hesitates, dragging his eyes up to Sebastian's face expectantly.

"Rehearsal is in the gym today," he adds after a moment of just watching Blaine, the pointed smirk on his face making his intention even clearer.

"I know," Blaine replies coolly, rolling his eyes as he turns his head and keeps walking. 

The longer he spends pretending he doesn't care, the easier it has to get.

\--

It takes a while, but Blaine slowly finds himself getting used to the other things.

Jeff drops into the empty seat next to him in Biology after that first day, forgoing his spot at the back of the room without even a passing mention of it, and Blaine falls back into the pattern of spending more of his free time with the other Warblers. Coach excuses him from Gym until his wrist is healed, so he uses that time to try and get through his homework and catch up on his other classes.

Some moments are harder than others; he bites his lip hard when he passes Sebastian in the hall and hears him say to someone from the lacrosse team, "He was pretty, but not much going on upstairs," with a pointed look in Blaine's direction and most days end with him wanting to go to the gym and lay all his frustration into a punching bag. 

Without that outlet the frustration builds instead, burning beneath his skin with every snide comment Sebastian makes over the course of any given day.

Warbler rehearsals only get worse as time passes and Blaine knows exactly what Sebastian is hoping to gain from it. That he is trying to edge Blaine out of his co-captaincy with every question or bored remark.

Worse still is that Blaine thinks it might actually be working.

The dean's investigation doesn't come to anything, getting brushed aside with stern warnings that if any such allegations were found to be true the Warblers would either be disbanded or hereforth require a faculty advisor. 

Blaine suspects, from the smug expression on Sebastian's face as he relates the verdict, that their near miss has more to do with Sebastian's father than a lack of evidence. The rest of the Warblers look so relieved that Blaine thinks it may as well have been Sebastian's victory.

Dance rehearsals, however, remain the worst of all. 

Technically Blaine knows he shouldn't be participating in them at all, or at least not to the extent that he is, but he is determined not to give Sebastian any more ammunition to work with.

As time passes Blaine finds that he is less tired and that he can concentrate better, the headaches becoming less frequent and more often than not his arm itches rather than hurts. But none of that really seems to help when it comes to Sebastian's apparent determination to humiliate him at any and every opportunity.

They have made it through two of the potential pieces of choreography they have been working on for Regionals and Blaine is just feeling the headache start to build behind his eyes again when Sebastian starts in on him.

"Move your hips, Anderson," he says loudly as he stalks through the formation, blatantly ignoring the fact that Trent had been two counts behind the beat for the entire song in favor of stepping up behind Blaine, his hands settling low over Blaine's hips as he presses in behind him and laughs, "Anyone would think you didn't know how to use them."

Blaine shrugs him off immediately, stepping away and dragging his casted arm up to his chest as he turns on his heel, glaring up at Sebastian as he snaps, "Don't touch me."

Sebastian's eyebrows inch upward, laughter forming on his lips as he says, "I thought you might like a demonstration. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Anderson."

"Come on, Sebastian," Jeff speaks up, stepping in between them with a wary glance in Blaine’s direction, "Lay off, would you?"

"That's the exact kind of attitude that lost us Regionals last year," Sebastian retorts, eyes zeroing in on Blaine again as he quirks an eyebrow. "If you can't handle it maybe you shouldn't be here."

"I can handle it," Blaine replies coldly, "Maybe you should be more concerned with learning not to sing through your nose than my hips."

He hears someone choke back a laugh and catches sight of Nick pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise from the corner of his eye. 

Sebastian's smile turns sharp when Blaine looks back to him, his eyes narrowed as he says, "Just try to keep up this time, Anderson. We've already lost enough rehearsal time trying to catch you up."

\--

One of the few respites Blaine has is that Cooper insists on calling him a few times a week and while Blaine is almost positive that Cooper is, in part, using their phone calls to check up on him for their parents, he has found that talking to his brother is quickly becoming one of the few bright spots of his week. 

The call comes two days before Valentine’s Day and Blaine has been trying not to mope, reminding himself that this day has never exactly worked out well for him in the past anyway, but it is hard when he has encountered Sebastian making out with two different guys in different corners of the school already this week and the text he had received from Rachel that morning (telling him that if he is the one responsible for the gifts Kurt has been getting this week he should knock it off) had been the last straw.

Cooper's excitement is in stark contrast to his own dark mood which has already driven James out of their dorm in search of better company.

"Ask me why I am so happy, Squirt," Cooper says in lieu of a greeting.

"Don't call me that," Blaine grumbles back, curling his arm up over his chest and frowning up at the ceiling.

"Your big brother’s life just completely changed today, Blainey; my agent just called and guess who has an audition for a Michael Bay movie?" Cooper says, seemingly not noticing Blaine's less than enthusiastic response. "Hello, did you hear me? Michael freakin’ Bay. The movie’s untitled which you know is code for _Transformers 4._ "

“That’s great Coop,” Blaine replies, wishing he could summon a little more enthusiasm but only feeling more miserable because it suddenly feels like good things are happening for absolutely everybody except him.

Blaine's tone must finally register to Cooper through his excitement, because there is silence for a moment, before Cooper says, "You don't seem very happy for me."

"No," Blaine protests, shaking it off with a sigh, "I am, it's great Coop, I'm sure you'll be wonderful."

There is a snort from Cooper's end of the phone before he asks, "Would it kill you to sound just a little bit enthusiastic about this?"

"I'm sorry," Blaine replies tiredly, rubbing at his face, "It’s been a weird day. Tell me about the part."

He hears the slow intake of breath, like Cooper is considering his options before he says, "Well, he's the sheriff, you know; a handsome, dashing hero -"

Blaine grins into the phone, rolling his eyes as he says, "It sounds perfect for you."

"Thank you," Cooper replies enthusiastically, "I thought so too. Hey, you could help me run lines over the phone -"

By the time James edges through their doorway, like he expects Blaine to snap at him if he moves too quickly, Blaine is smiling, his cast sitting heavy on his chest.

"Is it safe to come in or are you smiling like that because you have a bread knife hidden under your mattress?" James asks cautiously from the doorway.

Blaine rolls his eyes and clumsily pushes himself up into a sitting position. "You’re safe," he says, ignoring the exaggerated sigh of relief as James moves inside to flop down on his bed.

"For the record," James says after he has started unloading what Blaine suspects might be half of the cookies from the dining hall from his pockets, "Everyone knows Sebastian's a total bastard. I wouldn't let it get you down that he's been saying things about you." 

Blaine stiffens, turning his head to look at James who freezes when he sees the look on Blaine's face.

"Well that wasn't what you were upset about," James mutters beneath his breath, “This is awkward.”

"What exactly has he been saying?" Blaine asks sharply, eyes narrowing.

"Um," James says after a moment, smile dwindling as he leans across to extend a hand to Blaine with a hopeful smile, "Do you want a cookie?"

\--

Jeff and Nick intercept him before he even gets within a meter of Sebastian, dragging him back as carefully as they can as he snarls, "I'm going to kill him."

They haul him back a few steps as Sebastian watches on unconcerned, his lips curved wide and eyes bright as he says, "Someone's feisty today. Don't hurt yourself, Anderson."

"What is your problem?" Blaine spits back, trying to shrug out of the arms that are steadily dragging him away and hissing when his cast collides with something solid.

"You're the one who came out swinging just now, killer," Sebastian replies, eyebrows hitched high. "Maybe you should tell me?"

"You told people that I -" he snarls before trailing off abruptly, his eyes catching on the audience that has seemingly sprung out of nowhere as he tries to calm his breath and instead spits, "You are such an asshole."

Sebastian seems to realize what he was saying anyway, laughing to himself before he says, "I'm not sure why you're so upset, Blaine, as I recall you were getting quite good at it, if a little sloppy. I figured its a desirable skill with Valentine’s Day coming up and all these lonely single guys around, you might even get a date out of it."

Nick and Jeff catch him as he lunges forward again, hauling him back down the hall as Sebastian watches with that same calculative expression on his face and Blaine realizes, as he stops struggling and lets them tug him into an empty classroom to cool down, that he has just given Sebastian exactly what he wanted.

Attention.

\--

After his outburst in the hallway, Blaine is determined not to give Sebastian the satisfaction of seeing him angry like that again. 

The story had spread through the school faster than Sebastian’s comments had in the first place and Blaine spends the days after pointedly avoiding the eyes that follow him through the corridors and the whispers he hears in classrooms. In the end, Valentine’s Day passes by without Blaine even noticing until it is almost over.

When Sebastian spends half of their English class tapping his foot against the back of Blaine’s chair, he grits his teeth and ignores it. When Sebastian spends an entire dance rehearsal just watching him without even saying a word, Blaine bites his tongue and carries on.

More than anything Blaine wishes he had some other way of channeling the anger that burrows it’s way in beneath his skin.

Boxing has been his coping method for so long that he doesn’t really know what to do with himself without it. Before boxing he had played the piano sometimes, but that option was lost to him now as well. The only thing left that gives him that same feeling of release is singing and a part of him wonders what it would be like, to sing out his feelings to Sebastian’s face.

A Whitney song, maybe, with the rest of the Warblers behind him. Something that would show him exactly what Blaine thinks of him. But these days Blaine isn’t sure how many of the Warblers would actually stand up and sing with him if he asked them to.

And that, maybe, is the worst part of all.

\--

When his father arrives to pick him up on Friday night to take him home for the weekend, Blaine doesn’t think he has ever been happier to see him.

Blaine isn’t even sure if his father notices, or if he does he certainly doesn’t say anything, but there is something that Blaine kind of enjoys about the quiet during the drive, the sound of the radio dialled low and his father’s voice humming softly along with it.

It is the most prolonged window of time they have spent in just each other’s company for years, Blaine is starting to realize, and while nothing of any real importance is said and most of the time is spent in silence, all he can think is that it is kind of peaceful.

\--

The doctor removes his cast the next day while his mother looks on, her eyes wide and her face pale before she has to turn away. The smell of his skin when the cast cracks open makes Blaine’s nose wrinkle, his eyes fixed on the pale, skinny limb that’s revealed as the doctor gently runs through tests to check his mobility. 

She seems satisfied enough in the end, though he leaves with a brace for his wrist that she insists he wear for another three weeks and gives him a pointed reminder not to overexert himself.

He wonders if it is really that obvious, how exhausted he is.

If the way his mother refuses to let him do anything other than lie on the couch while she orders in their dinner is any indication, he suspects it just might be.

\--

The next week doesn’t go much better.

He takes the doctor’s stern warning to take it easy a little more seriously this time around, ignoring Sebastian’s triumphant smile the first time he sits out a dance rehearsal with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. He spends the entire time reworking the arrangement for their group number instead and wonders if mysteriously omitting Sebastian’s part is really as childish as it seems.

\--

Blaine still isn’t sure how they convinced him to come. 

Nick’s birthday is the excuse they are using this time around, though his actual birthday doesn’t fall for another week still, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping anyone from their actual goal of letting off steam for the weekend. Blaine can’t say he really blames them either; the atmosphere inside Warbler practices has been so tense lately that Blaine has almost forgotten what it is like to _enjoy_ being a Warbler.

It had taken three days of near constant cajoling to get Blaine to agree to show up in spite of the part of him that knows absolutely nothing good can come of this. 

At least the numbers are considerably smaller than Nick’s last party, restricted to just the Warblers this time around, though Sebastian had arrived with his guy from the swim team in tow and that, really, is part of the problem. 

He had promised himself he wouldn’t drink tonight, the doctor’s warnings about alcohol and concussions still fresh in his mind, and he hasn’t so much as touched a drop yet; though his resolve has been sorely tested by the intense debate that he thinks might be about _Call of Duty_ he has listened to for the better part of an hour while he’s stuck with a perfect view of Sebastian and his date making out in his eyeline. 

Blaine thinks that his self-restraint has been admirable, so far, but the more everyone else drinks, the more he wishes he hadn’t agreed to come.

It takes five more minutes of not-following the conversation in front of him before he gets to his feet, waving Thad off when he glances around to see where Blaine is going, and heads for the kitchen. 

There is something calming about how quiet it is away from the buzz of conversation and the stereo and for a moment Blaine wonders if anyone would notice if he just hid in here for the rest of the night. He grabs one of the army of red solo cups that litter the kitchen island and fills it with water from the sink, closing his eyes as he leans back against the counter and takes a long sip. 

After the noise and the view he had just endured Blaine is pretty sure that anything would be better, but there is something about the quiet that soothes away the lump that has been building in his throat all night. A part of him quietly wonders how long he is expected to stay for before he can politely leave.

With a sigh he takes another sip from his cup, eyes fluttering open when he hears the sound of a cup skittering across the floor. The sight of Sebastian standing in the entrance to the kitchen makes his breath catch in his throat, surprise turning to something a little closer to dread as his fingers curl harder into the plastic cup. Sebastian’s date is nowhere to be seen (a minor miracle considering they have been otherwise attached at the lips all night).

There is a moment where he just stares at Blaine, like he honestly doesn’t know what to say, before the hesitation slips off of his face and he takes another step into the kitchen, smirking as he says, “So here’s where you ran off to, I guess the parties finally about to get interesting then.”

Blaine rolls his eyes, taking another slow sip from his cup to steady himself before he says, “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s water. I’m not drinking tonight.”

“I’m sure Hummel would be proud,” Sebastian scoffs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leans back against the kitchen island with that same unshakeable smirk on his face. “It’s a shame for everyone else though. You’re far more entertaining when you have a few drinks in you.”

It stings in the effortlessly casual way that Blaine expects it was intended to, his fingers squeezing at the plastic of his cup before he forces himself to set it back onto the counter, lips pressed in a thin line as he asks, “Did you actually want something or did you just think it would be fun to make my night a little bit worse?”

Sebastian laughs, eyebrows arched high as he pushes off the island and takes a step in Blaine’s direction, eyes dipping low and dragging back up Blaine’s body before he says, “Maybe I was concerned,” and crowds in closer.

Blaine slips out past him, arms curling up around himself as he turns on his heel, staring back at Sebastian from a safe distance as he asks, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Sebastian replies, voice amused as he follows Blaine’s path with his eyes, turning to face him again.

From this distance Blaine can see the slight flush of color to Sebastian’s skin, the haziness in his eyes and the way his shoulders droop a little. He is drunk, Blaine realizes after a moment, or at least well on his way to being so.

“Well you should go do that with your _date_ ,” Blaine says, taking another step back towards the entrance to the kitchen, his eyes trained somewhere near his feet as he says, “I’m going home.”

He can hear Sebastian following him back into the lounge and he resists the urge to look over his shoulder as he makes a beeline for the couch where he had discarded his coat but before he can get there he is intercepted by an arm curling around his shoulders. When he glances over Nick is beaming at him, happy and drunk and calling out, “Blaine’s back.”

Nick guides him back towards the group he had left and Blaine can see that it has expanded, shifted out into a circle, and the part of him that has occasional, vivid flashbacks of Rachel Berry’s party last year is instantly filled with dread. “They wanted to play a game,” Nick informs him, wrinkling his nose as he sinks down into a gap in the circle and pats the space next to him. “And if I have to play, you have to play.”

Blaine has every intention of making his excuses, of telling Nick that he has to go, but Nick seemingly reads them on his face, shaking his head as he says, “No way, Blaine. It’s my birthday.”

With a resigned sigh Blaine sinks down next to Nick in the circle, resting his braced-wrist across his knees and eyeing the faces around him warily; pointedly not looking when he catches a glimpse of Sebastian dropping down next to his date across the circle. Nick doesn’t seem to notice his complete lack of enthusiasm, busy hushing the rest of the group who Blaine suspects are mostly too drunk to pay him any attention.

He is pretty sure this isn’t going to turn out well at all.

\--

It starts out innocently enough.

Through some terrible chain of events they end up playing what Blaine thinks was supposed to be Truth or Dare and, for the most part, it has remained fairly tame. Trent somehow ends up naked and running around the house and Blaine is pretty sure he could have done without that visual, but it could have been worse.

The dares are all kind of lame, actually, and probably vastly more entertaining to the drunk people in the room, but Blaine is glad for the distraction. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have fun with these guys.

Blaine has almost let himself relax, shoving that strange encounter with Sebastian in the kitchen to the back of his mind where he can forget it ever happened, when it all starts to turn ugly. 

He has just watched Sebastian drain what has to be the most disgusting concoction of drinks he has ever seen and, after a glass of water to wash the taste out of his mouth, Sebastian is back. He drops a hand over his date’s thigh as he glances over to meet Blaine’s eyes for just a moment, lips curving at the corner in a way Blaine doesn’t like at all, before they move on, tracking slowly over the faces in the group thoughtfully.

There is something about the look on his face that makes Blaine distinctly uneasy as his eyes finally stop, lips curving upward as he says, “Thad, truth or dare?”

Considering how loudly Sebastian scoffed at how lame this game was when it had first been suggested, he seems awfully serious about it now. 

Thad seems surprised by the sudden attention, his eyes widening as he stares across at Sebastian and deliberates his answer. “Don’t look so scared,” Sebastian snorts when the moment stretches, leaning forward as his lips curl wider. “I don’t think it’s possible to embarrass anyone even more than they already are after Trent’s little show earlier.”

Trent makes an indignant noise on the edge of the circle where he has finally put his boxers back on though has yet to progress any further and Thad takes another sip from his cup before deciding on, “Dare.” 

“Good man,” Sebastian replies, the flash of his teeth in that broad smile making Blaine inexplicably nervous before he adds, “I dare you to make out with Anderson.”

Discomfort crawls up Blaine’s spine as he hears the startled sound of hurriedly stifled laughter and murmurs from around the circle, his eyes fixing on Sebastian’s face to see the smug, wide smile that is fixed in place and the sharp cut of his eyes as they flicker briefly in Blaine’s direction. Thad mostly looks stunned, his hand still curled tight around his drink and his eyes slowly moving from Sebastian to Blaine.

Thad’s badly hidden crush has been common knowledge amongst the Warblers for a long time now, though no one has ever dared to bring it up to his face. It has always made Blaine a little uncomfortable when people have joked about it in the past - but this, he thinks, is an entirely new low.

There is a hint of something almost hopeful in Thad’s eyes that only serves to make Blaine feel worse, his stomach turning as he tries not to show the anger that is starting to build beneath the surface. It almost makes it worse, knowing that this is something that Thad might actually want.

“Alright, alright,” Thad agrees when a few of the guys in the circle start up a chant, setting his cup aside and shuffling across the circle on his hands and knees towards Blaine.

Blaine wishes for a moment that he had been drinking, that he was a little less aware of every miniscule detail happening around him; the smirks on people’s faces and Sebastian’s intent stare, the way Thad licks his lips and wipes his palms nervously across his thighs as he pauses in front of Blaine, his knees pressing into Blaine’s shins.

He pushes himself carefully up onto his knees as Thad shifts uncertainly in front of him, balancing his good hand carefully on his thigh as Thad asks, “Is this okay?”

The hesitant expression on his face only makes it worse and Blaine thinks that this is probably the cruellest thing Sebastian has done yet as he nods stiffly, digging his fingers into the material of his jeans. Thad tips forward, his hands balancing awkwardly on Blaine’s thighs, fingers curling over Blaine’s good hand as he tilts his head in, lips brushing lightly over Blaine’s before he pushes forward.

Blaine can hear the catcalls in the background as he kisses back, determined not to make this any more awkward than it already is. He can taste the rum and coke that Thad has been drinking on his lips, rich and sweet and warm against his tongue and he hates that the prickling feeling of humiliation, of the eyes fixed on the pair of them, has more weight than the simple motion of their lips.

Thad’s fingers squeeze over his thighs in a way that Blaine doesn’t think is intentional at all and Blaine can feel the heat of his breath as he exhales against Blaine’s parted lips, the skim of Thad’s nose against his as he pulls back a little and his eyes blink open, staring back at Blaine from just a little too close. There is something warm and hopeful in his eyes that makes Blaine miserable, looking away even as Thad draws back, sinking back onto his heels and drawing his hands away.

“Come on, that was barely even a kiss,” Sebastian scoffs from across the circle and Blaine’s eyes jerk up towards him, the anger that has settled heavy in his stomach rising as he continues, “You can do better than that, can’t you, Thad? No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

Blaine jerks backward, pushing himself to his feet and trying his best to ignore the bewildered expression on Thad’s face and the disappearing smiles on his friends faces as he shakes his head and mutters an excuse about needing a drink. He heads for the kitchen, blatantly ignoring the footsteps that follow him as he grabs another cup from the island and fills it to the brim, water slopping over the sides because his hands won’t stop trembling.

“What’s the matter, Anderson? Need a moment to compose yourself after all of that burning sexual tension?” Sebastian mocks from the doorway, because of course he can’t just leave it alone. Blaine is starting to think that Sebastian doesn’t know _how_ to give up when he gets something in his head. “You could have at least pretended to enjoy yourself, considering.” 

“Why did you do that?” Blaine snaps, letting his cup fall back into the sink as he turns on his heel to face Sebastian. 

There is a snort of amusement in response, something a little sharp and bitter worming it’s way into the shape of Sebastian’s mouth as he says, “Calm down, Anderson, I just made all of Thad’s pervy little dreams come true.”

“It’s not funny, Sebastian,” Blaine replies, struggling to keep his voice calm as he takes another step forward, “Why do you treat everything like it’s a joke? What did _he_ ever do to you?”

Sebastian outright laughs at that, leaning against the counter as he scoffs, “Thad’s sad little crush on you _is_ a joke, Blaine. Besides, I thought if you got some action you might stop staring at me like a kicked puppy.”

“How can you treat people like that?” Blaine asks, shifting uncomfortably when he realizes just how far he has pushed into Sebastian’s personal space. “Like they don’t even matter.”

“None of this matters,” Sebastian laughs back, waving a hand around him in mild disgust, “Do you really think in five years time I’m going to remember a single one of you? This entire town is a joke.”

“You are a terrible person,” Blaine replies, shaking his head in disbelief and taking a step back from him, “I can’t believe I ever wasted my time with you.”

Blaine thinks he hears Sebastian call after him as he pushes past him through the door but the words disappear beneath the buzzing in his ears. He hurries through the lounge, ignoring the curious stares that follow him as he snatches his coat off of the couch and keeps on walking.

The door snaps shut behind him and he shivers at the onslaught of cold, fumbling awkwardly with his coat to get his keys out of the pockets when his fingers are still trembling with anger. He will call Nick and apologize tomorrow for the abrupt departure, but for now all he wants to do is get far, _far_ away from this house and the people who are in it.

\--


	7. Chapter 7

\--

Blaine doesn’t know what he really expects to happen come Monday; he thinks he knows better by now than to expect an apology or really, anything much at all, but a part of him still hopes that maybe the Sebastian he thought he had known hadn’t just been a product of his own imagination.

He knows that he doesn’t always see people for what they truly are; that he has a tendency to smooth the edges and look for the best parts rather than focus on the flaws. He had also never thought that could be a bad thing.

Lately he has been wondering if the Sebastian he thought he had known had ever really existed at all, because he certainly doesn’t seem to now.

Sebastian is suspiciously quiet throughout the morning, keeping his focus firmly on his classwork and not so much as looking Blaine’s way. It is almost a relief after the last few weeks of near-constant nettling but he knows better than to hold out hope that it will stay that way. 

The anger and frustration that has been building in Blaine for weeks now without any form of release is still squirming in his chest, sparking every time he sees Thad hurriedly avert his eyes when he sees him or hears someone whispering behind his back. Sebastian’s date from the party glares openly at him when they pass in the hallway that afternoon, muttering something to his friend as they walk away.

Mostly, Blaine is just tired of it all.

Dalton has been his sanctuary for so long, a place that has never been touched by the same bitter memories as his previous school. It has only ever been a place of safety and happiness for him. The fact that it has been soured so quickly, tainted by the association of the dull pang of hurt in his chest and the creep of heat up the back of his neck when he catches people he doesn’t know staring at him in the halls, is kind of devastating.

There had been a time when he would have assumed they were looking at him because he was a Warbler, because he was the lead soloist and because he was _popular_. Now he only wonders which rumor they have heard. 

It’s exhausting.

Sometimes, Blaine wonders what his life would be like now if only his parents had said yes.

\--

Blaine doesn’t know what to make of the expression of relief on his parents faces when he arrives home that weekend.

Technically he probably still shouldn’t be driving and he knows he will probably get a lecture about it once the initial surprise has worn off, but there is something about his father’s fingers curling around his shoulder and the way his mother’s smile brightens as she runs her fingers through the soft, ungelled hair at the back of his neck that makes it worth it.

Whatever the things they aren’t, when it comes down to it they are still his family and that is exactly what he really needs right now.

\--

Of all the places he could have chosen to spend his Saturday, Blaine kind of wants to kick himself for picking the Lima Mall.

It had mostly been on a whim, fuelled by staring at his hair dripping down into his eyes in his reflection after his shower that morning and getting frustrated by just how much of it there was as he tried to slick it back into his usual style. He knows that it will take a while before his wrist is strong enough to work properly again, that it really won’t seem like so much effort then, but he is also suddenly desperate for even that small illusion of change.

His dad will probably be furious with him for driving again, especially after the lecture he had received the night before, but the idea of being alone in that empty house for the day had been even less inviting than his father’s disapproval.

Blaine had really only meant to go get a haircut when he had sat down in his car, but apparently his subconscious had made other plans. He still isn’t entirely sure how he ended up at the Lima Mall, but he can’t help but think that with his luck, he really should have known better.

Of course he would run into Kurt here.

He hears him first - the high, distinctive sound of his laughter - and it turns his head, eyes searching for the face that he knows that voice belongs to before he even fully realizes what he is doing. Kurt is easy to pick out of a crowd, he always has been, and the moment Blaine locks eyes on him his heart stutters uncomfortably in his chest and he steps hurriedly behind a sign as he realizes they are headed his way.

The guy Kurt is with is unfamiliar to him, though Blaine thinks he could probably be heard from a mile away. He is talking a mile a minute, his voice a tumbling rush of sound that is only intercepted by Kurt’s laughter as they walk. Blaine catches only a glimpse of blond hair, glasses and an infectious smile before he presses his back into the sign, digging his phone out of his pocket in the hopes that if he looks like just another busy shopper they won’t even notice him or if they do, Kurt will think he has had a lucky break and just keep walking.

It is probably typical of his luck that it doesn’t work.

Blaine is halfway through a slightly panicked text to Cooper asking about his latest audition and he thinks he is doing a decent job, at least, of looking entirely oblivious to the rest of the world when he hears Kurt say, “Blaine?”

His eyes shoot up, fingers gripping tight at his phone as his hand falls to his side and he says, “Kurt, hi.”

The surprise on Kurt’s face shifts towards something a little embarrassed, his eyes drifting towards the guy lurking at his side and staring curiously at Blaine before snapping back to him as he says, “Hi. What are you doing here?”

Warmth crawls up the back of his neck and he smiles hesitantly, looking down as he carefully slides his phone into his pocket and says, “I was just going to get my hair cut.”

Kurt nods slowly in response, eyes drifting down again as the guy at his side bounces on the balls of his feet, glancing between them as if waiting for Kurt to introduce him before apparently giving up and sticking his hand out for Blaine to shake, “Hi, I’m Chandler.”

Blaine shows off the brace wrapped snugly around his wrist and hand in deference to the extended hand, his smile strained as he replies, “Blaine.”

“Chandler’s applying to the Musical Theatre program at NYU,” Kurt blurts out suddenly, something equally as strained in his voice as he glances between them.

“Oh,” Blaine finds himself saying in response, his eyes turning briefly towards Chandler who is bobbing his head enthusiastically in agreement.

“When Kurt said that he was applying to NYADA I told him we just had to get to know each other better,” Chandler announces brightly, beaming as he adds, “We’re like a future New Yorker’s support group.”

“I was looking for possible audition songs at ‘Between the Sheets’,” Kurt adds with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Some absolute cretin had hidden the entire _Evita_ catalogue,” Chandler pipes in with an exaggerated expression of horror before his smile falls back into place. “Am I talking too much? Sorry, I sometimes talk too much when I get nervous.”

“It’s fine,” Blaine replies, feeling a little overwhelmed by the flood of words tumbling out of his mouth, “I should actually probably be going. I don’t want to miss my appointment.”

“Oh,” Kurt says softly, fingers twisting together in front of him before he says, “Well, it was nice to see you.”

Blaine nods in response, his smile a little hesitant but hopefully convincing enough as he replies, “You too. Good luck for your audition. And Regionals.”

He notices the way Kurt’s eyes linger on the brace on his wrist for just a moment, the smile he offers in return a little sad as he agrees, “Good luck.”

There is something a little bittersweet about walking away from him, about hearing the sound of Chandler’s voice get louder and louder in rapid succession as he makes his way back in the direction of the hair salon. He isn’t entirely sure that he is ready to be happy _for_ Kurt, if that is what Chandler is, but in a weird way he thinks that he is at least glad that Kurt seems happy.

And as his stylist (rather predictably) clucks her tongue in dismay at the sheer volume of gel in his hair, bemoaning the state of his curls as she washes it out with a sigh and asks, “What have you done to your gorgeous hair?” Blaine can’t help but think that after everything they have been through this year, they both maybe deserve a little happiness, wherever they can get it.

\--

Blaine gets another lecture for his efforts that night while his mother runs a hand admiringly through his new hair, smiling a little as she tugs at the curls that his stylist had only loosely tamed.

His father drives him back to school on Sunday night with the promise that he will be back again on Friday to pick him up for his appointment at the hospital to have his wrist checked out again. It is an easy enough concession to make with the promise of just one more week, though leaving his car behind feels a little bit like the end of the world.

Whatever the week has in store for him, Blaine is almost certain he is ready to face it.

It is strange, he thinks, how something so small can make such a difference.

\--

Blaine walks into rehearsals on Monday with a new sense of determination, ignoring the vaguely bemused expressions on his fellow Warblers faces as he says, “Regionals is only two weeks away. Do you honestly think we’re ready?”

There is silence and more confused looks as the Warblers already present slowly turn to look at him. For a while now he has been feeling undermined, like his standing within the Warblers has given way and his opinion has been given less and less weight with each passing day, but what he is starting to realize is that it hadn’t been taken from him, that Sebastian may have been digging and pushing for weeks, but it was Blaine who had given it away. 

He can feel Sebastian’s eyes fixed on him from where he had been standing when Blaine entered, leaning back against the council’s table, but he doesn’t say anything, his face so carefully neutral that Blaine wonders what he could be thinking.

It surprises him, how readily the Warblers respond to him, like they have just been waiting for him to snap out of the fog of insecurity he has been living in since that night in the parking garage and step up again.

Somehow, even after the mess they have made of their last few weeks of rehearsals, Blaine is starting to think that maybe they might have a chance of winning after all.

\--

The news hits Dalton on Tuesday morning, a sudden rush of hushed whispers that are confirmed when a school assembly is called, there are reminders of the guidance counselor’s office hours and hotline numbers distributed on pamphlets. There is a heavy handed reading of the school’s zero-tolerance policy on bullying and everything it entails.

The only thing Blaine hears for the entire assembly and long afterwards, however, is the name _David Karofsky_ ringing in his ears.

\--

It is like living in some bizarre dream state.

Dalton goes on as it always does; classes and homework and Warbler rehearsals, but now it seems like everyone is watching just a little bit closer.

Cooper calls every night and sends texts periodically through the day, meaningless, arbitrary messages that always end in a question. His parents call and are in a state of almost panic by the time he answers them because he has been talking to Cooper for the last hour.

His family aren’t the only ones.

There are teachers who watch just a little more closely, who ask him questions about how his wrist is healing up and if he thinks he is all caught up on classes or if he would like a little extra help. There are the Warblers who are suddenly everywhere he goes, tailing every move he makes.

It is stifling. He sometimes feels so crowded that he can hardly breathe (and oh, isn’t that the irony of it all).

Every gesture is a heavy handed reminder that someone cares and Blaine can’t help but wonder where this all was weeks ago when he might have actually appreciated it.

As far as Blaine can tell, he isn’t the one who needs it.

\--

Sebastian is quiet.

He does his classwork, he finishes his homework and he attends every Warbler rehearsal and lacrosse practice without fail.

He is so quiet that Blaine almost imagines he can _hear_ how completely not okay he is.

\--

The auditorium is usually locked when it is not in use; a side-effect, Blaine suspects, of it being one of the oldest buildings on campus. Dalton’s auditorium is much smaller than those at McKinley or Carmel, but there is history in those walls, a thousand songs and words and voices; a thousand performances and rounds of applause built into them.

Blaine has always liked it the best of any of the buildings on campus.

It takes a pleading conversation with the head of the music department who takes one look at the brace he is still wearing on his wrist and the miserable expression on his face and relents with a put-upon sigh (though Blaine knows that Mr. Lewis has always had a soft spot for him) and tells him to lock up after he is finished. 

He doesn’t tell anyone where he is going, managing to duck away from his honor guard without them noticing while they are on their way to lunch, and while he feels a little guilty about it he is grateful for the heavy silence of the empty auditorium after the stifling closeness of the past few days. It is dark and it is quiet and as he makes his way down the aisle, staring up at the empty stage, he feels at home in a way he never really feels anywhere else.

The stage is the one place in the entire world that has never let him down.

Once he has that ground beneath his feet, a platform where he can be anything he wishes but never really anything other than another version of himself, it feels like he could fly. There is no audience, only a parade of ghosts he wishes could hear him to fill the empty seats, but it has never been about the crowd for him.

It is about the swell of emotion in his chest, the desperation that crawls up his throat and aches in his lungs, everything he feels and everything he is that needs to get out; it is the escape into something else, diving into somebody else’s words (somebody else’s world) and only hoping he will resurface when it is all over.

_Comin’ up now, comin’ up now, out of the -_

It is about the music, really, and the way it bleeds for him; the way it heals him and it breaks him, over and over. It is the surrender and the fight; a cycle that begins anew every single day of his life, because he would tear himself to pieces again and again for the sake of this; for the ascent. 

It hurts just as beautifully as it heals.

All he needs is the swell of instruments from a cheap, battery powered stereo, crackling and lost beneath the sound of his voice. His breath trapped tight in his chest until it finally cracks open, a release into the empty shadows as he blinks back the spill of wetness from his eyes and the words that echo back to him through the silence;

_One more spoon of cough syrup now._

The sound of his own breathing is the first thing that comes back to him, heavy in his ears as the calm seeps in, filling the ragged edges left behind. He moves slowly after that, swiping at his wet cheeks with the backs of his hands as he comes back to himself.

It is the creak of the stage that tells him he isn’t as alone as he thought he had been, Blaine taking a moment to breathe in slowly and attempt to steady himself before he turns to face them.

Sebastian has his blazer slung over one shoulder, his face shuttered and unreadable as he hesitates at the edge of the stage, staring over at Blaine with curiously bright eyes, made all the brighter by the bruise of exhaustion that surrounds them.

More than anything, Blaine thinks he looks scared, his fingers twisted tight into the fabric of his blazer where it is clutched against his chest and the expression on his face twisted and badly patched together; like he can’t quite manage to keep it in place.

“That isn’t one of our songs for Regionals,” Sebastian says after a long moment, his feet bringing him slowly towards the center of the stage like he isn’t sure if he will be welcomed or not.

“No it’s not,” Blaine agrees after a moment, glancing uncertainly down at his feet before forcing himself to look up again, to meet Sebastian’s eyes. 

“Mr. Lewis said you’d be in here,” Sebastian says after a moment of hesitation, folding his blazer over his arm as he stares at some point over Blaine’s shoulder. “He asked me to check on you.”

The smile tugs unexpected and a little exasperated at his lips because of course he had, something in the way Sebastian’s fingers won’t seem to stop winding through the fabric of his blazer making Blaine’s voice soften as he asks, “Was it around the same time that he was checking up on you?”

Sebastian snorts in surprise, eyes flickering back to Blaine’s face as he crosses the remaining distance between them, standing a perhaps more than polite distance back as he says, “I don’t think I can even tell the difference between a normal conversation and an interrogation anymore.”

Blaine’s smile of response is small, his eyes drifting up to meet Sebastian’s as he shrugs and says, “It’s like that, huh?”

“I had to pretend I needed to go to the bathroom so I could get away from them,” Sebastian replies with the faintest wrinkle of his nose, a hint of a smile curving at the edge of his lips before he focuses on Blaine again and the smile vanishes. “So, what was all this about then?”

There is a hint of an accusation in Sebastian’s words as he glances around at the empty auditorium, dark and imposing and Blaine can only imagine what he must be thinking. 

“Usually I box,” Blaine says quietly, shrugging a little as he drops down to sit on the stage, glancing up at Sebastian expectantly until he somewhat bewilderedly follows suit, “Sometimes I play the piano, but singing is the only thing that really helps.”

Sebastian nods slowly and Blaine is sure he doesn’t really get it, that he heard the song and saw him wiping the tears from his face and that he has gotten it completely wrong, but when he speaks again it isn’t to ask if he is _sure_ that he is okay, it is just a slightly amused, “Is it as pathetic as I think it is that I want to hide in here until lunch is over?”

Blaine smiles a little, lying back to stare up into the rafters above the stage as he says, “That’s what I was planning on doing.”

“So, really pathetic then?” Sebastian scoffs, though he follows Blaine’s example, stretching out across the stage and turning his head a little to smirk in Blaine’s direction.

“Completely tragic,” Blaine agrees, the hint of a smile at the edge of his lips creeping upwards as he tilts his head to meet Sebastian’s stare and adds, “But only because you’re here.”

Sebastian snorts back a laugh again, pressing his eyes closed before he says, “I guess you’ll just have to be tragic then.”

“And I’ll let you keep pathetic,” Blaine replies evenly, “I wouldn’t want to be greedy.”

“Cute,” Sebastian replies beneath his breath, blinking open his eyes to stare back up into the rafters again.

A soft hum of agreement makes it’s way past Blaine’s lips, his arms stretching out over his head as he yawns, “I know.”

There is silence for a moment, both of them staring blindly up into the dark before Sebastian clears his throat, his eyes fixed upward as he says, “You don’t sing like that when you’re with the Warblers.”

Blaine shivers a little, curling his wrist up over his chest as he says, “I’ve never had to.”

\--

It doesn’t fix anything.

He knows there is something more to what is going on with Sebastian, that the unspoken truce they brokered in the auditorium hasn’t really changed anything between them at all. Blaine still isn’t quite ready to forgive him and he isn’t entirely sure that Sebastian wants him to; there is something in the way he carries himself lately that makes Blaine wonder if there isn’t something that he is missing there.

Blaine knows what guilt looks like.

The Warblers seem unnerved by their apparent cease-fire to the extent that when they manage to get through an entire rehearsal on Thursday without so much as one swipe at each other Nick pulls him aside to ask if he is feeling okay. 

Sebastian spends the entire time they run through the final incarnations of each of their performances, shifting the order around in an attempt to find the best possible version of their setlist, with his lips pressed tight together and apparently deep in thought. Blaine doesn’t really know what to make of it.

Sometimes he catches Sebastian looking at him during class with an odd expression on his face and Blaine feels like he wants to say something, but can’t quite figure out what it is.

He finds himself wondering about Kurt, how he is coping and what he must be feeling with the ugly tangle that connects his life to Karofsky’s. It is enough for him to send a text, the first in months to the number he had never quite been able to bring himself to delete from his phone.

There isn’t a reply, but Blaine hadn’t really expected one.

Kurt has never really been one to talk about the things that really bother him.

It is easier not to think about it, to try not to reconcile the guy who once pushed him into a chain-link fence for telling him he is not alone with the guy who everyone seems to be talking about. He doesn’t know what he is supposed to think about it or how he is supposed to feel; the Karofsky that Blaine had known had been a broad caricature of the bullies he had grown up with, a spineless creature of thick fists and ugly sneers. The kind of guy that still makes the hair on the back of Blaine’s neck stand on end because he remembers all too well what that kind of anger can create.

But Blaine doesn’t know who David is and it isn’t really his place to try and find out.

He pities him, maybe. The person behind the mask, the one that Kurt had talked about (like he could see an actual person behind the scared, angry boy who once threatened to kill him) and Blaine had maybe seen just a glimpse of - lurking in the back of a backwater gay bar with a baseball cap tipped low over his face. 

Blaine doesn’t know how he is supposed to react to any of this, so he focuses on the things he does know instead.

\--

His father gets out of the car and pulls him into a hug the moment Blaine is in reach on Friday night, ignoring the startled huff of air that Blaine releases against his shoulder and the uncomfortable way his duffle is squashed between them. It lasts longer than he expects it to, something like relief feeding through the tense squeeze of his arms and the fingers that dig just a little into Blaine’s back.

The ride home is spent with the radio dialled louder than usual, his father’s eyes drifting between him and the road with an alarming frequency.

It is a reminder that while they don’t always understand each other and maybe they never really will, that the things that are important to Blaine may never quite align with what his father wishes they were, the only thing his dad has ever really wanted for him is to be safe and to be happy.

Blaine thinks that maybe he needed that reminder a little more than he would ever admit to.

\--

The doctor declares his wrist to be healing nicely, eyeing him suspiciously as she runs him through a few new strengthening exercises like she knows he hasn’t entirely been sticking to her recommendations, and agrees that he can start driving again before sending him on his way again.

Blaine meets his mother out in the hall again, watches her smile when he raises his wrist triumphantly in front of him, sans-brace. The skin is still pale but it is slowly regaining muscle and soon enough he thinks he won’t even be able to tell the difference. 

It is as they are leaving, Blaine still staring down at his wrist with a morbid fascination, rotating it back and forth before his eyes, when he hears the name in the hall.

His head turns automatically, eyes caught on the sight of the doctor talking quietly with an exhausted looking man in a rumpled suit whose eyes are red with tears and a shiver crawls down his spine, something heavy settling in his chest as he snaps his head back before they notice him looking.

There is something sobering about the reminder that Karofsky has a family as well, that it is his father standing outside his room waiting to hear from the doctors with that wrecked expression on his face.

They may not have much in common and maybe Blaine doesn’t understand him at all, maybe he thinks that it is selfish, maybe he can’t imagine ever making that choice, but at least he understands this.

In the ways that matter most, they really aren’t so different after all.

\--

It is the sound of his phone buzzing steadily across his bedside table, the flashing screen lighting up the dark of his room, that finally pulls Blaine from his sleep. He had been curled on his side, wrist tucked in against his chest and face mashed into his pillows when it started, the persistent buzz growing louder as his phone rattles it’s way across the table.

He blinks fuzzily up into the dark, reaching out with his good arm to grope around for his phone and wrinkling his nose in confusion as other sounds start to register to him as well.

Like the doorbell ringing.

Blaine kicks away the bedcovers and lurches to his feet as his phone stops buzzing and falls silent. The doorbell rings again, echoing through the empty house as he pulls open his door and he wonders exactly how long it has been ringing for.

His parents are out for the night and most of tomorrow, attending a coworker’s wedding across the state with a promise to be back by the afternoon and Blaine can’t imagine who would be ringing their doorbell at two o’clock in the morning. He shuffles sleepily down the stairs, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

It chimes again as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and Blaine grimaces, rubbing at his eyes as he closes the distance to the door, hesitating as he reaches for the outdoor light and twists the lock, muttering, “Alright already, I’m coming.”

What he finds on the other side of the door is possibly the last thing he had expected.

Sebastian is leaning against the doorframe blinking up at the porch light in bewilderment, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. A strange, lazy smile crawls across his face as he realizes that the door has opened, his eyes drifting down to Blaine as he drawls, “Finally, Anderson. I thought you were going to make me sleep on your porch.”

Blaine gapes at him, stepping back in surprise as Sebastian pushes off the doorframe and stumbles sideways, snickering beneath his breath as he catches himself on the other side of the doorframe and swaying a little before he rights himself, his eyes focusing in as he murmurs, “You cut your hair.”

That is all it takes, Sebastian’s hand reaching out to pluck at the end of a curl, for Blaine to shake himself out of his surprise, curling his arm up to his chest as he steps back, away from Sebastian’s hand, and asks, “What are you doing here, Sebastian?”

There is a distracted hum of response, Sebastian’s eyes drifting down to fix on his lips as he follows Blaine’s path backwards, his nose wrinkling as he answers, “They called me a cab.”

“Who called you a cab?” Blaine asks, grunting in surprise as Sebastian stumbles over the threshold and collides with him, his face mashed into the collar of Sebastian’s shirt as broad hands grapple at his shoulders, swaying in his attempt to stay upright.

Blaine can feel the laughter against his cheek, rumbling up through Sebastian’s chest before he steps back, settling his hands over Sebastian’s arms to keep him steady and frowning up at him. He has seen Sebastian drink before, had thought that at Nick’s party he had seen the worst of it, but it is becoming pretty obvious to Blaine now that he has never actually seen him drunk.

If he is perfectly honest, Blaine is pretty sure he could have done without it.

“The bartender at Scandals,” Sebastian says after a moment, eyes dipping again to Blaine’s lips and lingering there as he adds, “I told him I wasn’t ready to go home but he still called a cab.”

“Which doesn’t explain why you’re _here_ ,” Blaine replies, edging around Sebastian so he can close the door behind him, locking it and flicking off the porch light as he is suddenly paranoid that his neighbours will have noticed the commotion.

Sebastian makes another low hum of acknowledgement, eyes following Blaine’s path as he says, “Here isn’t home, is it?”

Blaine rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to laugh at just how pleased with himself Sebastian sounds as he tries to step back around him, rubbing a hand through his hair and slipping away from the arm that tries to snake around his waist. “That still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here. How do you know my parents aren’t home?”

“They didn’t answer the door,” Sebastian points out, pressing in close, eyes crawling up from Blaine’s toes as he mutters, “God you’re hot.”

The laughter spills out in spite of himself this time, surprised and far louder than he had intended and Blaine reaches out to push lightly back at Sebastian’s chest as he asks, “How drunk are you, exactly?”

“Not as drunk as I’d like to be,” Sebastian replies, pushing forward against Blaine’s hands as his eyes dip to Blaine’s lips again, “Come on, Anderson.”

“I barely even _like_ you right now,” Blaine says, fingers curling just a little into Sebastian’s shirt before he stops himself, shaking his head as he says, “You can stay here to sleep it off, but we’re not -”

Hands settle low over his hips, the slow sweep of thumbs through the thin cotton of his pajama pants as Sebastian coaxes him forward distracting. Blaine’s forehead wrinkles and his tongue darts out to swipe across his lower lip before he shakes his head and says, “I’m not your booty call.”

“I know,” Sebastian replies, the strangely earnest tone of his voice drawing Blaine’s eyes upward in surprise.

Even through the dim light Blaine can see the strange expression on Sebastian’s face, how dark and intent his eyes are as he lifts a hand to tip Blaine’s chin up.

“Stop it,” Blaine says quietly, trying not to notice how badly Sebastian’s expression crumbles as his hand drops away. “You can sleep in Cooper’s room, if you want or -”

Blaine turns toward the stairs, frowning at the slip of his tongue because there is no _or_ , and reaches back for Sebastian’s arm, clearing his throat uncomfortably before he says, “You woke me up, you know.”

The press of Sebastian’s warmth against his side is yet another distraction but Blaine bites his lip, hitching an arm around Sebastian’s waist to try and coax him up the stairs. It takes some effort to get him there, though Blaine suspects most of the trouble may just be an act, especially when they reach the second floor and Sebastian heads straight for Blaine’s room.

Rubbing his eyes in frustration, Blaine sighs and hurries after him, watching him drag his shirt up over his head and throw it aside before he flops, face-first onto Blaine’s bed.

“I said Cooper’s room,” Blaine protests, staring down at the bare expanse of Sebastian’s back and watching the ripple of muscle as Sebastian sighs loudly before he rolls over.

There is something so off in the way that Sebastian stares up at him, the expression tense and restless before he pushes himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed and tipping his head a little, his voice soft as he says, “C’mere.”

It makes Blaine’s chest ache, the part of him that can’t let go of what it had felt like to be hurt over and over again by Sebastian over the past few weeks stubbornly resisting even as his feet shuffle forward, his eyes fixed warily on Sebastian’s own as he finds himself stepping in between Sebastian’s thighs and broad hands settle over his hips. 

“Why are you here?” Blaine asks again, the ache spreading up the back of his throat as he waits for a response.

Sebastian snorts, his eyes fixed upwards as he rubs his hands slowly up Blaine’s back, skimming beneath his shirt as he says, “That’s the wrong question.”

His eyes drop, his hands reaching out to settle over Sebastian’s bare shoulders as he asks, “Why me?”

“Who else?” Sebastian replies quietly, sliding his hands around to Blaine’s lower back to pull him in closer. “I didn’t want to go home, okay?”

Blaine shivers at the cold slide of Sebastian’s fingertips up his back, dragging the fabric of his shirt up with them, trying not to be distracted by the warm press of Sebastian’s lips against the center of his chest through the thin fabric. His voice falters a little, too loud when he forces himself to ask, “Why not?”

He can feel the tremble of what might be laughter beneath his fingertips, shuddering through Sebastian’s shoulders, but his voice is bitter when it is spoken into the fabric of his t-shirt, “My dad’s not there.”

Something squirms uncomfortably in Blaine’s chest, the heat of Sebastian’s breath seeping through his shirt and into his skin as he realizes that what Sebastian is really saying is that he doesn’t want to be alone.

And as much as he had smiled, told his parents that it was fine and that he would see them tomorrow, that he didn’t _need_ constant supervision, Blaine gets it.

He doesn’t want to spend too much time alone with his thoughts either at the moment.

There is another shudder beneath his fingertips, Sebastian’s head tipping forward, forehead resting against Blaine’s chest as he laughs out loud this time, the sound strangled and unnatural and his fingers curling tight into the back of Blaine’s t-shirt.

The memory of Sebastian’s face in the auditorium that day, the fear in his eyes and the guilt he has been carrying around since, is stuck in the forefront of his mind and Blaine doesn’t know what to do. He only ever makes a mess of things when he tries to help people; he somehow always manages to make things worse.

The last time he had seen David Karofsky he had told him that apologizing to Kurt had absolved him of nothing. Now Blaine can’t help but wonder how many apologies he should be making. 

Blaine’s breath hitches in his throat, fingers digging into Sebastian’s shoulders a little tighter, pressing his eyes firmly shut against the dark as he clears his throat and says, a little unsteadily, “My parents are at a wedding.”

Sebastian’s fingers curl tighter into the back of his shirt but he doesn’t say anything, his breathing uneven and Blaine wonders if he has got this wrong; if he should be asking what has Sebastian so messed up he is getting kicked out of bars and can’t face the idea of a night in his own company. He suspects that Sebastian will only deny it if he does.

“It’s at the ‘Quaker Steak & Lube’,” Blaine adds after a moment of near silence, waiting for the snort of laughter against his chest, the shaking under his hands making a smile twitch at the corner of his lips as Sebastian finally leans back to look up at him.

“You’re not serious?” Sebastian asks after a moment, the expression on his face more surprised than genuinely amused, but Blaine thinks that it has to better than nothing. 

Blaine shrugs to himself, trying to keep a straight face as he adds, “Best Wings in the USA.”

The laugh he gets in response is worth it, if only for the fact that for a split second Sebastian almost looks like the guy that Blaine knows again. The laughter drifts away quickly, dissolving into silence as Sebastian stares up at him, a finger slowly tracing the length of his spine as he says, “Blaine, you know I’m sorry, right?”

His face is as open and honest as Blaine has ever seen it, not even a hint of a smile on his lips. If he wasn’t quite so drunk Blaine wouldn’t even question it.

“Maybe you should tell me that when you haven’t been drinking," Blaine replies softly, his eyes drifting down to his hands to avoid the sincerity in his eyes.

"I mean it," Sebastian says, hands settling low at the base of Blaine's back and tugging him pointedly closer until Blaine has to adjust his grip on Sebastian’s shoulders to keep from tumbling forward.

Sebastian stares up at him with that unsettling sincerity, his fingers curling into the waistband of Blaine’s pajamas as he says, "I’ve treated everything like a joke, since I came here. You and my dad and the New Directions and David fucking Karofsky - I fucked everything up because I didn’t want to be here and I was scared of what it meant that I might actually like you. You didn't deserve that, Blaine. You're the only thing this stupid fucking state has going for it."

His voice catches in his throat, his eyes wide as he says, "Sebastian -"

Blaine gets cut off by the hands that tug him forward again, his attempt to catch himself failing as Sebastian falls back with him, fingers digging into the base of his back as Blaine lands half in Sebastian’s lap. He squirms as he tries to push himself up, the angle awkward as Sebastian maneuvers beneath him and Blaine isn’t entirely sure how he ends up straddling Sebastian’s hips, but as Sebastian sits up, his hands sliding down the back of Blaine’s pajama pants to grab handfuls of his ass, it doesn’t seem to matter.

Their faces are too close together, Blaine’s eyes fixed and wide as Sebastian asks, “Please?”

And the prospect of feeling good, even if it is just for a little while, of chasing away the thoughts that haunt him when it gets quiet is a little too tempting, impossible to deny when he has Sebastian so close.

Blaine closes the distance between them tentatively, tilting his head just enough to brush their mouths together. The taste of alcohol is heavy on Sebastian’s breath, sour in the wake of his tongue as it dips in past Blaine’s parted lips. He rolls his hips forward as he bends his neck to press into the kiss, the tight squeeze of Sebastian’s hands drawing a soft whine up the back of his throat.

It is easy to get lost in this; the hot, wet slide of their mouths together, the slow slide of his palm skimming up the notches of Sebastian’s spine, Sebastian’s finger tracing ever so lightly between the cheeks of his ass in gentle suggestion. It would be easier still to let this go, to find some silly cliche to hold onto about living for the moment and dive into anything Sebastian is willing to offer.

His head rolls back, neck stretched taut as Sebastian mouths his way down it, apologies written into his skin and Blaine shivers against the effort. He can feel Sebastian’s dick straining hard against his jeans as his hips rock forward again, his breath stuttering in his throat as Sebastian’s finger slips lower.

The reality of it makes him shiver, his fingers sliding into Sebastian’s hair as a finger drags lightly over his hole and Blaine shakes his head, tugging lightly at the hair wound between his fingers as he says, “Not that.”

The finger slips away and Blaine tips Sebastian’s head back to kiss him again, rocking his hips forward and whining into Sebastian’s open mouth. Fingers knead into the cheeks of his ass, dragging him up as Sebastian drops back against the mattress and Blaine follows after, chasing his mouth and the taste of sour alcohol on his tongue.

Blaine wants this; to burn away the aching reminder in his chest and the guilt hiding in Sebastian’s eyes, his fingers scrabbling to unzip Sebastian’s jeans as warm hands drag his pajamas out of the way. And it might be a mistake, but Blaine wants to make it anyway.

\--

When Blaine wakes the next morning sunlight is already creeping bright through the cracks of his curtains and he can feel something warm and solid plastered against his back. An arm hangs heavy over his waist, a dead weight anchoring him to the body that is fitted snugly in behind him.

As he stirs he feels the slow, soft trace of a toe along the instep of his foot, the rhythmic warm puff of breath against the back of his neck, tickling the loose curls of hair there. The delicate touch against the sensitive skin of his foot makes him shift and the arm curled around his waist draws tighter. The next touch trails across the ball of his foot, slow and deliberate, circling down across the sensitive skin until he squirms, laughter bubbling unbidden up his throat and the arm hooked around his waist squeezes, the chest pressed flush against his back rumbling with laughter.

Sebastian’s leg slides between his, tangling them together as he presses even closer behind Blaine, his voice low and rough as he says, “Anyone would think you were the one with the hangover, Anderson. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for ages.”

"You were the one who decided to drink half a bar and wake me up in the middle of the night," Blaine replies, content to lie there for a little longer, yawning as he says, "I think I'm entitled to sleep in."

Sebastian snorts, dragging a toe back up the sensitive arch of Blaine's foot as he says, "You didn't have to let me in though."

"I wasn't going to leave you to sleep on my porch," Blaine scoffs, squirming again and curling his knees up to drag his feet away with a laugh of, "Stop that."

"You're warm," is Sebastian's only response, hand sliding up Blaine's stomach, nails scratching lightly across his chest. 

Blaine feels the cold tip of Sebastian's nose press against the back of his neck and tries to wiggle further away as he replies, "And you're cold, seriously, stop that."

He hears another huff of laughter, fanning out across the back of his neck, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes only because of the yawn that creeps up on him again. Instead he stretches out his spine, arching his back and ignoring the soft noise Sebastian makes against his ear in favor of closing his eyes, turning his head back into his pillow as he says, "I'm going back to sleep."

"You might want to reconsider that," Sebastian replies, the warm press of his lips up behind Blaine’s ear making his mouth twitch in a smile.

"I’d rather sleep," Blaine replies, not even bothering to open his eyes. “My parents aren’t due back until this afternoon.”

“Are you propositioning me, Anderson?” Sebastian asks, sounding distinctly amused as Blaine snorts dismissively and nuzzles his face further into his pillow.

There is another dry kiss at the base of his neck and Blaine hums beneath his breath, unwilling to move or to consider this any further than something he will acknowledge when he is more adequately equipped to deal with it. “Sleep,” Blaine grumbles at the warm brush of lips at his hairline, “Or I might have to reconsider the whole porch thing.”

\--

By the time he makes it downstairs, shuffling and desperately craving coffee while Sebastian follows behind him, looking considerably more miserable now that sunlight has been reintroduced to his life, it is closer to midday than morning. 

Blaine still isn’t entirely convinced that last night won’t turn out to have been a complete mistake, but the fact that Sebastian is here, that for the moment being that shaken look is gone from his eyes, is enough to give him hope that maybe it doesn’t have to be. 

He is halfway into the kitchen before he realizes that Sebastian has stopped dead in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder in confusion to see him staring in the direction of the breakfast bar with open surprise. Blaine frowns, turning to see what he is looking at when he hears the cheerful greeting of, “Morning, baby brother. Guy who has been defiling my baby brother all morning.”

The strangled noise that escapes Blaine’s mouth draws an even broader smile to Cooper’s face as he sips nonchalantly at his coffee and takes a bite from his bagel. “I was starting to think I’d have to go looking for a hose to break you two up. Nice to see you’re taking full advantage of Mom and Dad being away for the night.”

“What are you doing here?” Blaine finally manages to choke out, eyes wide as he moves toward the breakfast bar where Cooper is perched.

“Nice way to greet your favorite brother who flew all the way back home just to see your Regionals performance,” Cooper scoffs, tearing at his bagel with his fingers and watching Blaine’s face with a smirk. “I got in early this morning, by the way, but I decided the better of going in to wake you up when I heard the sex noises coming from your room.”

The heat that crawls up Blaine’s neck, flooding across his cheeks as he turns away, biting his lip and groaning, “ _Coop_ -”

“For a moment I thought there was some kind of animal attack going on,” Cooper continues brightly, apparently entirely unconcerned by the way Blaine tries to bury his face in his own shoulder. “Well don’t just stand there, Sebastian, isn’t it? You must be hungry after all that hard work. I’ll tell you what, you both sit down and I’ll make brunch.”

Blaine winces, glancing over at the slightly shell-shocked expression on Sebastian’s face as Cooper slides off his stool and circles the counter, smirking as he closes his hands over Blaine’s shoulders and gives him a push out of the kitchen. There is something a little sharp in the curve of his lips as he says, “Sit!”

Sebastian crosses the room warily to perch on the stool next to Blaine’s, glancing hesitantly in Blaine’s direction from the corner of his eye as Cooper starts rummaging through the cupboards for a frying pan. 

“Now,” Cooper announces brightly as he emerges with the pan he wanted, twirling it around by the handle and beaming over at Sebastian. “Let’s talk about how if you ever, and I mean _ever_ , hurt my baby brother again I will find you, cut off your junk and fry it in Mom’s Martha Stewart collection, non-stick cookware.”

“ _Cooper!_ ” Blaine hisses, eyes wide with horror. 

Cooper doesn’t seem overly concerned as he sets the frying pan down on the cooktop, whistling to himself before he asks, “Is bacon okay?”

\--

\--

Blaine isn’t sure what to expect when he sees Sebastian on Monday. He had sat through a long afternoon of Cooper alternating between the worlds least subtle innuendoes and jokes to trying to make Sebastian sweat as much as possible.

It hadn’t taken long for Sebastian to get over the initial shock of Cooper’s presence and by the time Blaine had offered to drive him back to Lima to pick up his car he had already been fielding Cooper’s alternating jokes and threats with the first sign of his usual confidence returning.

Cooper's arrival had put off a lot of the questions Blaine had wanted to ask and now Blaine is left wondering what it had all meant. 

By the time they make it through Monday’s classes he finds he has spent most of his day studying Sebastian from the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what he is thinking. More often than not, he finds himself catching Sebastian’s eye in return.

When he arrives for rehearsal however, he finds the rest of the Warblers all clustered around, spread out across the sofas and chairs and apparently waiting for something.

Blaine sinks down on the arm of a couch, setting his satchel neatly down against the side of the couch and shrugging when Nick asks him what is happening, his eyes fixed curiously on where Sebastian is standing beside the council's table, deep in discussion with David who is nodding slowly along to whatever Sebastian is saying. 

It is another five minutes still before everyone has arrived, and now most of them staring at Sebastian with interest as he stands at the front of the room, something determined on his face as he watches the stragglers find seats.

"I wanted to talk to you all about Regionals," Sebastian says finally, his eyes locking briefly on Blaine's as he speaks, a faint curve touching the corner of his lips before he says, “But first of all, I need to apologize.”

Soft murmurs of confusion rise up from the group but Sebastian stares pointedly at Blaine, chin tilted up and determined as he says, “Blaine, I’m sorry for the last few weeks. I let some misplaced rivalry and a lame prank get completely out of hand and it ended up getting you hurt. I have no excuses for the way I’ve acted but if you give me a chance, I hope I can make it up to you.”

Blaine can practically feel the eyes turning towards him, the lump that has been working it’s way up his throat sitting heavily as he nods quickly, meeting Sebastian’s eyes for a moment and realizing that this is his way of proving to Blaine that he means it. He wonders just how much it costs Sebastian to stand there unguarded and put his pride aside for the sake of an apology in front of the entire team.

Probably more than he will ever admit.

He bites his lip, the half-smile of acceptance that is creeping across his face clearly the only answer Sebastian needs because he relaxes, the tense expression on his face smoothing before he continues, “I also wanted to talk about our setlist for Regionals. I’ve talked to the council and we have an idea.”

\--

There is a part of Blaine that is just a little bit surprised that they actually show up. 

The chime of the bell above the door draws his eyes up from the white-chocolate mocha that is set, mostly untouched, on the table in front of him (far too sweet, he has spent most of his time staring enviously at the espresso Sebastian has been hoarding) and he takes a moment to observe the approach before they are spotted. 

Kurt looks exhausted, his face pale and subdued as he catches sight of them and begins to wind through the tables toward them. Santana, if anything, looks sharper than usual, something defensive in the set of her shoulders as she stalks towards them with Brittany trailing along behind her. Brittany alone seems largely unchanged, if a little more solemn than Blaine is used to seeing her.

Blaine suspects it would take a lot to dampen her mood.

When the trio come to a halt in front of their table, not so much as moving to sit down, it is Santana who speaks first, choosing to focus entirely on Sebastian as she says, "Let me break it down for you from one bitch to another; all of this vicious, underhanded crap has to stop."

Sebastian takes a moment to clear his throat, setting his coffee down on the table as he shifts in his seat to look up at her and says, “Exactly. That’s why we called you here.”

The moment of surprise on her face quickly filters back into something closed off, her arms folding across her chest as she glances from Sebastian to Blaine expectantly. 

“I wanted to apologize,” Sebastian says after a moment, glancing briefly towards Blaine as if steeling himself before he looks back up at them. “I let my competitive nature get the better of me, I went behind the backs of my teammates and I made a bad situation worse.”

"Wait for the punch," Kurt mutters beneath his breath, arms curling across his chest as he stares down at them, eyes narrowed and tired. “You know it’s coming.”

The half-smile of encouragement that Blaine shoots Sebastian across the table, fingertip dragging across the lid of his mocha, is greeted with a tired, strained smile in response. Blaine wonders just how hard it is on Sebastian’s pride to be apologizing to them. He can’t imagine Kurt’s suspicion is making it any easier.

Taking a step back from the Warblers has been hard after holding on so desperately for the past few weeks, of not budging an inch less he lose them entirely, but Blaine is starting to suspect that Sebastian might just need this. That he needs to feel like he is doing something to redeem himself from whatever had happened between him and Dave Karofsky. Letting Sebastian take responsibility for them is a little terrifying, but if he can’t trust him with this Blaine doesn’t think he can trust him at all.

"No, not this time," Sebastian says, eyes dropping to the table for a moment as he breathes in slowly, like he is trying to regroup before he says. "I want the Warblers to win fair and square. We’ve talked about it as a group and this Thursday the Warblers are going to be taking donations for Lady Gaga’s Born This Way Foundation. Win, lose or draw, we’re going to dedicate our performance to Dave Karofsky.”

Blaine can see the shift of suspicion and confusion on their faces, the way that Brittany glances curiously over her shoulder at Santana as she frowns down at them and the way that Kurt tenses at even the mention of his name, guilt burning like a brand in his eyes.

He can recognise the expression on Sebastian’s face, the way his eyes dip down a little quicker than they usually would, so he takes over, lifting his chin a little as he asks, “We wanted to know if you would like to join us?"

It is that which finally softens Kurt’s face, his arms curled tight across his stomach as he glances towards Santana. She is better at hiding her emotions, but Blaine can still tell the moment that she believes them. She nods, ponytail bobbing behind her as she says, “Fair and square, right?”

“Fair and square,” Blaine agrees, extending his hand towards her to shake on it and getting a roll of her eyes in response, tempered by the tiny quirk at the corner of her lips.

“And here was I thinking you were actually getting cool, funsize,” she scoffs, curling her fingers through her ponytail before turning on her heel and saying, “See you at Regionals.”

Kurt nods quietly at him as he takes a step back, eyes lingering on Blaine’s face for just a moment before he turns to follow.

There is only silence in their wake, Blaine shifting in his seat as the door chimes again, his fingers tapping across the table before he says, “That went well.”

Sebastian snorts, eyes drifting up to meet his as he says, “As well as can be expected, I guess.”

“You know what would have made it better?” Blaine asks after a moment, shifting casually in his seat and levelling his most winning smile in Sebastian’s direction.

Sebastian laughs, picking up his cup from the table and rolling his eyes as he replies, “I’m not giving you the espresso, Anderson.”

“So much for making it up to me,” Blaine replies sadly, eyes dropping to the lid of his mocha with what he hopes is an adequate amount of dejection.

There is another snort of amusement, Sebastian tilting his head to the side as he says, “Cute. But it’s not going to work.”

\--

The sound of the audience is already filtering through the stage curtain, a low persistent buzz that sticks in Blaine’s ears. It isn't that he is nervous exactly; changing their set list so late in the game may be risky but Blaine has never doubted his own ability to lead the Warblers and the song, well, the song he knows by heart.

The real problem is that this is what they have been working towards for the entire year, what Blaine has dedicated all of his spare time and energy to. They have worked harder than the Warblers ever have before, shed blood and sweat and tears over these performances.

Blaine knows what the New Directions are capable of and after everything that has happened this year this may have become much more than just a show choir competition to all of them, but there is a part of him that still desperately wants that victory. It has been a long year, a hard year, and none of it has turned out the way Blaine had envisioned it; but he wants to at least try and keep the promises that he made to his fellow Warblers at the start of the year.

Nationals.

The Warblers haven't made it to Nationals for almost seven years now and however the last few months may have played out, they have worked harder than ever before. Blaine thinks that maybe they have earned it this time around.

There is nothing he wants more than to feel like he has kept at least one promise this year.

"You nervous, Anderson?" 

Sebastian's voice cuts into his thoughts and Blaine turns towards him, watching as he ties his tie from the corner of his eye and smiling just a little.

They have been stuck in limbo over the course of the week, caught between the awkward place of what had happened over the weekend and the honest, sincere apology Sebastian had given him in front of the Warblers. Blaine isn't really sure where it leaves them, they have spent most of the past few days so focused on adjusting their setlist that they haven’t really had time to figure it out, but he thinks he might like to.

"Why would I be nervous?" Blaine asks, shaking his arms out at his sides and taking a deep breath. 

"You've been standing over here staring into space for almost ten minutes," Sebastian replies dryly, "Trent thought you might be having a seizure."

"We could still go back to our original set list," Blaine says after a moment, smoothing his hands over his blazer distractedly. "We know it better."

"We could," Sebastian agrees, watching Blaine from the corner of his eye. "It would be the safer option."

That drags a smile to his lips, Blaine glancing over at him with a roll of his eyes as he asks, "Are you going to give me a ‘seize the moment’ speech?"

"No," Sebastian snorts in response, adjusting the knot of his tie as he speaks. "I don't think you're very good at playing it safe, Anderson."

Up until recently, Blaine thinks he would have disagreed. He would have said that just being at Dalton was his way of playing it safe, of hiding away from his problems.

Now he is starting to realize that maybe that isn't the case after all.

The smile twitches at his lips, his eyes dropping back to his feet as he says, "Neither do I."

\--

There is something about opening the show that is a little bit terrifying. It is about setting the bar, claiming the stage and refusing to give it back, leaving an impression that won't be forgotten the moment the other acts take the stage. 

Blaine likes the challenge of it.

He bounces on the balls of his feet as they wait for the curtains to open, something excited fluttering low in his stomach as fixes his eyes ahead. Around him he can hear the other Warblers taking deep breaths and grounding themselves, shifting restlessly in formation as they wait for the curtains to part. Sebastian is standing at the center, waiting to launch into 'Stand' the moment the lights come on.

Blaine's eyes snap upwards, taking a slow breath as the curtains start to unfold. This is their moment, what they have been working towards all year.

It passes in a blur, the rush of the stage intercut with the moments of perfect synchronization, of Sebastian stepping forward to urge the audience to donate, the auditorium falling silent and Blaine's heart thumping loud in his ears.

Sitting somewhere out in that sea of faces is Cooper. Beyond him Kurt and the New Directions. Blaine is singing this song for all of them, he thinks, but mostly he is singing it for himself. 

It is a reminder that no matter who he is to them - little brother, ex-boyfriend, co-captain, something in-between - the thing that matters most is how he sees himself.

_So thanks for making me a fighter._

\--

Waiting for the results has always been his least favourite part of any competition.

They stand shoulder to shoulder on stage, Sebastian's arm pressed against his and Jeff's fingers clenched over his shoulder, tense and hopeful and awful because there is nothing left for them to do but wait.

Blaine hates this part; the knowledge that they have done all they possibly can no comfort for the long stretch of silence they have to face as they await the verdict.

The New Directions stand opposite them on stage, separated by the sea of nervous faces and crushed velvet that make up the Golden Goblets, and Blaine steals a nervous glance across at them. He smiles hesitantly when he manages to catch Kurt's eye, receiving a tense smile in return before turning to watch the slow performance that is wheeling Svengoobles’s coffin out onto the stage.

Jeff’s fingers are digging sharply into his shoulder and when he glances over, Sebastian’s face is determinedly neutral as he watches the farce that is happening in front of them. At any other time he thinks he would be excited to see Svengoobles, but as he prepares to to announce third place all Blaine feels is the tight, nervous ball forming in his stomach. Blaine barely registers what he is doing as he reaches down to his side, clutching hard at Sebastian's hand and winding their fingers together.

There is a momentary sense of relief as the Golden Goblets leave the stage with their third place trophy, beaming in spite of the loss, and Blaine bites his lip, squeezing hard at Sebastian’s hand as he waits for the final announcement to come.

All year long the Warblers have worked for this, and he knows that it must seem ridiculous, to have pinned his hopes on a competition, but he thinks that maybe they might even deserve it too. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears as he squishes his eyes shut and waits.

Last year he had stood on a stage side by side with Kurt, filled with hope for what they could be. The loss had seemed insignificant in the face of what he had gained.

This time around there is only the visible deflation of his teammates, the sinking in his chest as on the other side of the stage the New Directions explodes into celebrations, hugs and laughter, the sound of their victory so loud Blaine can’t seem to hear anything else. 

Blaine feels the sharp squeeze of Sebastian's fingers around his, the disappointed drop of Jeff's hand from his shoulder as they are handed the second place trophy. He turns back to his teammates, sees the crushed expressions on their faces and he doesn't know what to say.

Honestly, he isn't sure there is anything to say.

It’s all finally over.

\--

Blaine takes a moment to collect himself before he goes out to look for Cooper. Smoothing his blazer and fixing his hair, splashing water on his face to try and stave off the heavy feeling in his chest. He isn’t sure he can take facing the Warblers and seeing the same looks on their faces.

The loss stings more than it probably should. In the past Blaine has always done his best to accept defeat gracefully, trying to focus on the positives. He suspects it is a byproduct of the memories of Cooper’s hypercompetitive tirades when they were younger; but Blaine knows he really isn’t so different from his brother. The disappointment is a reminder of just how much he had invested in the Warblers success this year.

Mostly he is just tired, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he finally emerges to look for his brother. 

It doesn’t take long to spot Cooper, surrounded by a flock of giggling middle aged women who appear to be encouraging him to sing the jingle from that awful credit ratings commercial. Blaine rolls his eyes, raising a hand awkwardly to wave when Cooper looks up and beams before excusing himself from the group. 

"You were robbed," Cooper assures him as he crosses the distance to pull Blaine into a hug, his eyes big and intent when he pulls back and seizes Blaine by the shoulders.

"No we weren't," Blaine sighs in response, smiling wryly as Cooper squeezes his shoulders.

"I don't think anyone was expecting the Christina song," Cooper continues, "You sounded good, Blainey. A little sharp on some of the high notes, but very nice."

"Coop," Blaine protests, rolling his eyes. "We just lost the competition. I'm not really in the mood to talk about it."

Cooper's eyebrows raise but he backs off, slinging an arm around Blaine's shoulders instead as he says, "Well, I know that you probably don't feel like it, but there are a few people here who wanted to take you out for a celebratory dinner."

"We lost," Blaine points out with a sigh, “There isn’t exactly anything to celebrate.”

Blaine raises a hand to rub at his face, annoyed at himself for how gloomy he sounds before blinking in confusion as Cooper replies, “I don’t know about that,” and steers him in the direction of the last people he had expected to see standing there.

His parents look uncomfortable as they glance around at the lingering members of the crowd with mild bemusement and they are still dressed in their work clothes, but Blaine can't seem to close his mouth as he stares at them. His eyes are wide with surprise as he asks, "What are you doing here?"

Cooper jabs him in the side pointedly, looking just shy of exasperated when Blaine turns to scowl at him, rubbing at his side.

"Cooper said he was coming and we thought we’d tag along," Blaine hears his mom say, his eyes turning back to find her smiling at him hesitantly. "You were very good, sweetheart."

"Thank you," Blaine replies, still feeling more than a little bit stunned by their presence.

His family really is only ever predictable when it suits them.

The desperately disappointed part of him eases just a little more as his father shifts uncomfortably on the spot, tugging at the knot of his tie before he says, "We thought, since your brother’s in town, we could all go out for dinner to celebrate.”

And it may not be the same as a first place trophy or a trip to Nationals, but Blaine thinks that maybe it is a different kind of victory.

\--

Dalton carries on as it always does.

In the aftermath of Regionals the Warblers are left subdued, quiet under the disappointment that hangs heavy over their heads. Second place at Regionals is nothing to scoff at, really, but there is still a sense of aimlessness when they arrive for the first practice after their loss, nobody knowing quite what to do now that their competition season is over.

Eventually there will be performances for school functions or places around the community, small things to occupy their time while the school year winds down. They will sing again because they love it, not because of a goal they have to work towards. They will get distracted by upcoming finals and tests and with time they will start to discuss their chances for next year. What they can do to be better.

For now, however, they are simply content to wallow.

\--

The thing that Blaine is starting to realize about Sebastian Smythe is that, however much he may want it to appear the opposite, he really seems to have no idea what he actually wants when it all comes down to it. There is something about seeing him without a goal to chase that is a little alarming, like without that purpose to work towards he is floundering. 

It is a little bit terrifying the first time Blaine realizes that maybe all of that confidence Sebastian projects to the world is just another mask to hide behind and it is strange to find that, albeit in different ways than Blaine had ever thought of, maybe he is just as confused as the rest of them.

Fortunately, Blaine thinks he knows a thing or two about masks.

\--

“Can I talk to you?”

Sebastian glances up from his notes, his surprise evident in the faint twitch of his eyebrows when he sees Blaine standing there. After a moment he nods, reaching out to sweep a few of the extra textbooks he had pointedly strewn across his table to dissuade other students from sitting there and gestures for Blaine to sit down. 

There is something cautious in Sebastian’s eyes that is quickly sewn up behind a wide smile as he says, “What can I do for you, Anderson?”

Blaine has spent the better part of the weeks since Regionals trying to figure out what to make of this new Sebastian. They fall into the familiar patterns of sitting next to each other in classes and walking in the halls, but every time Sebastian starts to flirt or looks like he is going to make a move he backs off.

It is starting to feel like a serious case of whiplash at this point. 

“So,” Blaine says after a moment, resting his hands on the table in front of him and smiling just a little, tilting his head as he asks, “Are you ever going to ask me out?”

The surprised laugh of, “Excuse me?” shakes him a little, makes Blaine wonder for a moment if he is making a complete fool of himself and if Sebastian isn’t just trying to move on.

But if there is one thing Blaine’s learned this year, it is that even if they don’t pay off, sometimes taking a few risks can be worth it in the end (and, just maybe, he is a little bit braver than he had ever thought he could be).

“Are you waiting for me to do it?” Blaine continues, trying to keep his smile steady and not show just how nervous he actually is. “Because, for the record, I would really like to give this another try.”

Sebastian stares at him, his mouth dropping open in honest surprise and Blaine can see him formulating a response but there is something so incredibly satisfying about being able to render Sebastian Smythe speechless that makes Blaine smile and push his chair back.

He can see the confusion in Sebastian’s eyes as he stands up, smoothing his hands over his blazer and trying to bite back the smile that keeps tugging at the corners of his lips as he says, “Let me know when you figure it out.”

As he walks away, he doesn’t keep the smile from spilling wide across his face. Whatever the result may be, Blaine is starting to think that if it is happiness that he wants, he is going to have to be the one to chase it.

\--

The sound of the chair next to him being dragged back draws Blaine’s eyes up from his notes, his lips curling slightly at the sight of Sebastian dropping down into the seat next to him.

There is something strangely determined in Sebastian’s eyes as he turns to face Blaine, blatantly ignoring the way that Archer is already scowling in their general direction for the crime of simply existing in his classroom as he says, “You should come to the game on Friday.” 

Blaine is pretty sure that any hope of winning over his Biology teacher had been lost long before he even set foot on Dalton grounds. 

“Lacrosse?” Blaine asks dubiously, biting back the smile that keeps trying to creep across his face as he glances over at Sebastian from the corner of his eye and sketches his pen distractedly in the margins of his notes.

“Yes, lacrosse,” Sebastian replies, shifting in his seat to face Blaine, the determined look on his face making the corners of his lips twitch, “Come on, Anderson, it’s our first official home game of the season and I have it from a very reliable source that you have a vested personal interest in the team. Besides it wouldn’t do for next year’s student body president to not be showing his school spirit, now would it?”

Blaine laughs, eyebrows inching upwards as he asks, “Student body president?”

“Naturally,” Sebastian replies, “Who else?”

Biting hard down on the inside of his cheek to keep from outright grinning he turns back to his book, lips twitching at the corner as he says, “You make me sound like a cheerleader.”

“I could work with that,” Sebastian replies, leaning back in his seat as if to better consider the visual. “We’re definitely lacking in the cheer department. Have a skirt and some pom-poms tucked away somewhere, Anderson?”

He turns back to unleash an unimpressed stare in Sebastian’s direction before saying, “I don’t think so.”

Sebastian laughs quietly to himself, planting an elbow on the desk as he leans into Blaine’s space to say, “It will break your poor roommate’s heart if you don’t show up to support him.”

“I’m sure James would cope,” Blaine replies, glancing back at where Archer is pacing the front of the room and trying to stop the smile that keeps trying to take over.

There is a moment of silence, like Sebastian is deliberating over his next words and the foot that has crept into Blaine’s space unnoticed drags up the back of his ankle as Sebastian says, voice low, “Are you really going to make me say it, Anderson?”

Breath catching in his throat, Blaine turns his head to find Sebastian right inside his space, he feels warmth spill across his cheeks as their eyes meet and his tongue runs across his lower lip, before he smiles, wide, and says, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sebastian snorts and Blaine watches the way he rolls his eyes, clearly gathering himself before he leans in a little closer to ask, “Will you come to the game to watch me play on Friday night?”

“I guess I could check my schedule,” Blaine says after a moment, meeting Sebastian’s eyes and smiling before he glances away. 

“Good,” Sebastian says, sitting back in his seat with a smirk that looks more relieved than anything.

“No pom-poms though,” Blaine adds after a moment, eyes dipping back to his textbook with just a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Sebastian tips his head, humming thoughtfully beneath his breath before he murmurs, “Pity. That could be a good look for you.”

“Shut up,” Blaine scoffs back, trying not to laugh and receiving only a pointed smirk in response before Sebastian’s eyes drop away back to his book.

“Perhaps if you took your own advice, Mister Anderson, I would be able to teach my class without having to listen to your constant prattle,” comes the irritable response from the front of the classroom. “Unfortunately since you seem utterly incapable of keeping your mouth shut for more than five minutes at a time, you’re going to have to move. Front of the class.”

As he picks up his books to move seats, scowling pointedly when Sebastian starts snickering to himself beneath his breath, Blaine wonders if maybe Archer is a battle that he will have to start all over again next year.

\--

And maybe Blaine still doesn’t really understand the point of lacrosse at all, but when Dalton emerges triumphant at the end of the game Blaine finds himself on his feet cheering with the rest of the crowd anyway, grinning wide when Sebastian finds him on the sideline and pulls off his helmet only to have Blaine drag him down into a kiss.

It is when he realizes that he can feel the shape of Sebastian’s smile against his lips, when he drops his helmet to grope uselessly at Blaine’s sides with his gloved hands, ignoring the murmurs and the scandalized looks of the other team and most of the crowd, that Blaine thinks he could probably learn to like lacrosse a lot.

Blaine’s smile is brilliant when he pulls back, rolling his eyes when James whistles at them as he passes on his way back to the locker room, and staring up at Sebastian with a faint wrinkle of his nose. It lasts all of ten seconds before Sebastian asks, “What?”

“I was just thinking that next time you’ll have to ask me on an actual date,” Blaine replies with a shrug.

“Pushy,” Sebastian replies, laughing as he reaches down to pick up his helmet again.

Blaine shrugs, a smile crawling wide across his face as he says, “I just know what I want.”

\--

The thing is, Sebastian is not the safe option. 

He kisses people in parking lots and flirts with other people’s boyfriends right in front of them. He gets drunk in bars and says things he shouldn’t just for the reaction. He messes up and he hurts people and most of the time it isn’t even an accident but when it comes down to it, all he really wants is for someone to give him a chance.

Blaine is starting to think that maybe they really aren’t all that different.

\--

EPILOGUE:

\--

The boy loitering at the back of Blaine’s orientation group stands out like a sore thumb amidst the gaggle of doe-eyed freshman that surround him, towering over even the tallest of the group. He has been dutifully following the tour on it’s path through the entire school, though he seems less interested in the impressive sights that Blaine has been guiding them through than he is in the tour guide.

Blaine suspects that if he were to ask, he would be promptly informed that his ass _is_ one of the most impressive sights that Dalton has to offer.

It is as he is sending the new freshmen and their parents on their way with their orientation packs, smiling as helpfully as he can, that the boy finally approaches, a smirk curled across his handsome face as he asks, “Blaine Anderson, right?”

Blaine rolls his eyes a little before reaching out to shake the hand that he is offered. “Hi. Are you a freshman?”

There is a snort of response as Sebastian slides his hands into Blaine’s back pockets and crowds him back against a wall, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if the last of Blaine’s tour have scattered as he laughs, “Do I look like a freshman?” against Blaine’s lips.

“No,” Blaine agrees after a moment, smiling up into the kiss he gets in response. “You really don’t.”

\--


End file.
